


Life After Death

by zurikitty13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angel Castiel, Angst, Cambion, Demon Dean Winchester, F/M, Feels, Future Fic, Ghost Sam, Heaven, Hell, M/M, Nephilim, Purgatory, Werewolf, demon, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2172309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zurikitty13/pseuds/zurikitty13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WATCH SUPERNATURAL TO ENJOY THIS FANFICTION. </p><p>"What do you mean the Winchesters are dead?"</p><p>Megan can't believe it. Her heroes, the world's greatest hunters of the supernatural, dead, just like that. No coming back this time, no do overs. So what now? Who will take over the great Winchester legacy?</p><p>And, now that their chapter has closed, who will stop the next wave of darkness? Someone had to do it. Sighing, she recklessly gives up on a stable future and joins the hunt.</p><p>Of course, she can't go alone. So, naturally, she brings her werewolf best friend, a half demon, and a haunted law school student along with her. What could possibly go wrong?</p><p>This story is an experimental fic, so that I can improve my skills as a writer, which means I really appreciate comments, questions, criticism, etc. I also encourage you to read the whole thing because even though I won't go back and edit previous chapters as my abilities increase, my writing, the story and the chars get better the more you read, so please give my story a chance before judging it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue:

“Castiel.”

“Dean…”

The pair stood, face to face, only a foot apart.

“Dean, please, it isn’t too late to stop.”

“You’re right; it isn’t.”

Dean’s right hand wrapped around Cas’s neck, and he started gasping for air as Dean held him up.

“But I don’t want to.”

Cas struggled against Dean, and tried to speak some sense into him.

“You… can’t just… abandon us… Sam and I-“

“You and Sam? You want to talk about what I think of you and Sam?”

Dean started squeezing harder, and Cas could feel the flames of hell burning into his neck.

“Sam was a needy little brother who never really loved me. Every time I left, he never looked for me, never bothered trying to save me.”

“What… about… us?” Cas managed to wheeze out of his now-blue lips.

“There was an us, once upon a time. But there isn’t anymore. Now there’s just a master and his pet.”

Dean proceeded to throw Cas across the room, and he slid across the hard, spiky stones of Hell. He gasped weakly for air as Dean just watched him from a distance, watched him choke, watched his cuts bleed onto the stony cold floor.

“You should be happy I’m sparing you. I like to think it’s because I really like that new outfit of yours. Getting professional with a black suit. My little Cas is all grown up.”

Cas was on his hands and knees, bleeding everywhere and still struggling to breathe.

“But what about your trench coat? I always liked it. Would’ve really went with the color of your blood.”

“Dean, please, stop.”

“Why? This feels so good! No more guilt, no more conscious. For once in my miserable existence, I feel free! I’m happy, Cas.”

“This isn’t you, Dean. Let me help you. Just listen to me!” Cas grunted, as he slowly rose to his feet.

“No, Cas. I’m done listening; I’ve heard enough of your pathetic begging. Leave.”

And with a blast of white light, Castiel was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

“I quit hunting a long time ago. I quit to raise you, remember?”

 

Megan was sitting at the kitchen table, talking to her mother, Elena Urtecho, who was sitting across from her. Her mother is Costa Rican, having been born there and a fluent speaker of Spanish. Her mother had long hair, ending at the middle of her back that was a waterfall of dark-brown curls the whole way down. Her face was slightly wrinkled around the edges, but nothing that made her look too old, or any less beautiful. Megan’s mom had the prettiest, most sincere smile she’d ever seen, and whenever her mom smiled, she couldn’t help but smile too, no matter how upset she was. When she smiled, her eyes crinkled around the edges just slightly, and her brown eyes would shut for just a second, and she’d take in a deep breath, as if to savor the moment, and when she exhaled, Megan felt as if she exhaled her joy to share with everyone in the room.

 

However, Megan’s mother wasn’t exactly ecstatic at the moment. Her face gave off a clear signal of maternal-worrying.

 

“Yes, mother, I do remember the last 21 years of my life.”

 

“I’m glad. Now, even if I could teach you, I’d rather not.”

 

Megan let out a huff of frustration. She knew the whole speech: it’s dangerous, it’s this, it’s that. She’s heard all of it too many times to count. To be frank, becoming a hunter wasn’t her first pick as career choice, mainly because it isn’t a career; it’s a lifestyle. A career involves getting paid, and all this job does is beat yo for being the good guy. But Megan had a passion for helping others, and since she failed to get into the FBI, this was her plan B. Her mother thought she was being rash, but isn’t that what being young’s about?

 

“Mom, I refuse to budge on this. I’m going to become a hunter, whether you help me or not, and if you help me, I’ll probably be a lot safer.”

 

Elena crossed her arms across her chest, and stared at Megan for a moment. A look of surrender crept onto her face, and with a sigh she rose from the table.

 

“Wait here.”

 

Megan watched her mother leave the kitchen, and she waited impatiently, tapping her nails on the circular wooden table. She stared across at the empty chair where her mother had been moments before; she snickered at the fact that they only had two chairs for this table. They never got company, and it was only the two of them. Their kitchen was small, hell, their house was small. Living in the southern part of California, the Urtechos weren’t all that rich. Fortunately, they weren’t really a materialistic sort. They looked like an average family from the outside, with family photos pinned to the fridge, and for the most part, they were. They went to church every Sunday, and Megan lived a cookie cutter life, but that only made her yearn the adventure more. They’d never discussed anything like this until today.

 

Her mother returned fairly quickly, holding a worn, brown shoebox in her arms. She set it in front of Megan. On the top of the box was the name “Castiel”, and Megan inhaled sharply in surprise.

 

“What… how…”

 

Megan didn’t wait for a response, and quickly opened the box. First she pulled out a knife that was sitting at the very top of the box. It was more of a dagger, since it was about a foot long. It was shaped strangely; she had never seen anything like it, but that wasn’t saying much. Megan twirled it around in her hands, examining it with curiosity.

 

“Be careful with that. That’s an angel blade.”

 

Megan stopped toying with the knife and set it down on the table, suddenly cautious of what it could do to her.

 

“You mean…”

 

“Yes. It can kill you.”

 

Megan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 

“Why would an angel carry around the only weapon that can be used to kill it?”

 

“To kill other angels, of course.”

 

Megan’s facial expression switched to one of shock. Angels… kill other angels? Megan had a hard time grasping the concept (isn’t murder a sin?), but quickly dropped it when she saw the grave look on her mother’s face.

 

Megan reached into the box again and pulled out a beige trench coat, and she could hear her mother start sniffling. She lowered the coat and looked at her mother, whose hand was covering her mouth. She was on the verge of tears, her face red.

 

“Why… why are you crying?”

 

“That coat… used to be your father’s.”

 

Megan figured as much, but that didn’t really explain why her mother was crying. Maybe it was because the coat reminded her of him, of the love of her life… Megan got up from the table, setting the coat down on her chair, and walked around to her mother, and gave her a side hug, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Her mom hugged her back and cried, pulling at the back of Megan’s shirt with her hands, face buried into her daughter’s shoulder. Megan held her tight, starting to feel tears coming to her eyes and the hand of sorrow squeezing her throat.

 

“Mom, its okay…”

 

“I know, I just… miss him so much. I’m sorry about this…” she sniffled, and she began to let go of Megan, pulling back out of the hug.

 

Her mother pawed at her face briefly with her hands, and let out a brief sigh.

 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my composure like that.”

 

“It’s okay, mom. I understand”.

 

“No, you don’t, and that’s my fault. That coat is more than a coat… it was a part of Cas, a part of his identity, his humanity, empathy. It’s his symbol. He may not think of it that way, but I always have.”

 

Megan stared at the jacket, then picked it up and put it on. It was a little big on her, but it felt comfortable, and she liked the thought of holding onto her father’s coat. She turned to her mother, who had her famous smile on her face, and Megan grinned back.

 

“Go look in the mirror.” Her mother whispered, and Megan whisked off to the bathroom, the coat flapping behind her like a superhero’s cape.

 

She burst into the bathroom, feeling a little giddy, and she posed in front of the full-body mirror. The coat was a bit big, but it looked right on her. It matched her short, messy, curly black hair and vibrant blue eyes. It also made her t-shirt, jeans and converse outfit look much more professional. Megan grinned and ran back into the kitchen.

 

“Mom, I love this coat! I totally understand what you said about it!”

 

Her mother gave her a knowing grin, and handed her a small folded note.

 

“I found it in the box. I think this can help you learn how to become a hunter.”

 

Before she could take the note, her mother grabbed her wrist, and looked her in the eyes.

 

"Megan, whatever happens, promise me you'll come home okay when this is all over."

 

She rolled her eyes and took the note from her mother, who was smiling slightly yet couldn't erase the worry in her expression.

Garth Fitzgerald

813-555-3495

\---------

 

_Hunter: someone who seeks and stops dangerous supernatural beings_

 

_\---------_

Megan pulled up in her red G6 to a medium sized, quaint, little house in Texas. It seemed very proper, and just by looking at the house you could tell a goody two-shoes family lived inside. The nicely trimmed plants out front, the corny welcome mat, and the ridiculously long, happy sound of their doorbell chiming through the house was enough to make her sick. She refused to believe that a hunter, retired or not, would ever live like this.

 

The door swung open to reveal a lanky young man, who was very tall and skinny. He was a little over 6’, with scraggly brown hair, and big, innocent eyes. The man seemed younger than he was, although Megan wasn’t sure how she could tell. He wore a white button-down shirt with black silk pants and expensive looking shoes, and she stifled a laugh.

 

“You know it isn’t Sunday, right?”

 

“Yes, I do. Today’s Friday. Uh… who are you?”

 

“Megan Urtecho. I called Garth and told him I was coming.”

 

The man’s eyes widened with recognition, and a big grin stretched across his face.

 

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Come on in!”

 

He opened the door the whole way, and gestured for her to enter, that grin still on his face. Megan walked in, arms crossed, and rolled her eyes, but a little grin was showing at the corners of her mouth. That guy was so ridiculously oblivious and happy.

 

Scoping the area, she walked through the entrance way, which had baby pictures and old black and white photos decorating both sides of the walls. Mr.Lanky led her into a living room, which seemed to resemble more of an old fashioned parlor. It had a grand piano in one corner, elegantly angled towards the center of the room, along with a warmly colored carpet and beige walls. A coffee table and old fashioned TV were the centerpieces, and there was also a couch big enough to seat a whole family, but there was only an older man, who resembled Ichabod Crane, sitting on the couch, soda in hand. He wore the same outfit as the man who led her in. Must be the religious type, she thought to herself, though why would a hunter be religious?

 

“That’s my dad, Garth.”

 

Megan could’ve guessed that, but she decided not to comment harshly. She needed Garth’s help, after all. Garth rose from the couch, setting down his Coke, which turned out not to be soda but grape soda, and a goofy smile stretched his facial features.

 

“Megan! C’mere, give me a hug!”

 

Before she could protest, Garth wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. Megan was extremely uncomfortable, the hug lasting a bit too long, and it took all her willpower to bite her tongue. Finally, he let go of her, and held her an arm’s length away.

 

“You’ve really grown, haven’t you? Last time I saw you, you were as big as my head. You were so cute, you really were.”

 

“Uh-huh. Listen, Garth, I came here because I need your help.” Megan quickly interjected.

 

“Sure, anything for Cas’s daughter.”

 

Megan liked the thought of having some hot-shot dad who everyone would be impressed to hear about. It gave her a little head start. Not that she didn’t have one already.

 

“I want you to train me to become a hunter.”

 

Silence filled the room, and Garth’s happy expression melted away, replaced by a look of seriousness. His son didn’t look so joyous anymore, either.

 

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m retired.”

 

“But you used to hunt with Sam and Dean Winchester, the two greatest hunters to ever live! Please, I really want to do this.”

 

Garth gave her a wary look.

 

“I have to tell you something. I didn’t retire because of age. I retired because...”

 

Garth fidgeted uncomfortably, but Megan’s curiosity was itching at her now, and she wanted to know. He can’t just cliffhanger a sentence like that.

 

“Because…?”

 

“… because I became a lycanthrope, or the more offensive term, a werewolf.”

 

Megan’s eyebrows shot up in shock, and she backed up, slowly reaching for the angel blade in the pocket of her jacket, but she felt a hand’s strong grip on her bicep, holding her back.

 

“Please, don’t fight. We aren’t bad; we don’t kill people.” Garth’s son protested in his quiet little way.

 

Megan, not listening to the werewolf’s pleas, threw him across the room with a swing of her arm. He crashed into the couch, and flipped it over with his impact. Garth hadn’t moved yet, and he held his hands out in front of him.

 

“Now, Megan, listen to us. Not all monsters are bad. Bobby isn’t lying to you.”

 

So Garth’s son’s name was Bobby, she thought to herself before shoving the new information aside. Megan now held the blade in her hand, and was pointing it at Garth. Her instincts told her that the most logical thing to do was kill them. They are monsters, after all. But if they intended to kill her, they could’ve already attacked her by now. Besides, don’t werewolves transform? If they meant to kill her, surely they would’ve done that first, or at least have set a trap.

 

“Prove it.”

 

Garth paused for a moment, lost in thought, then he snapped his fingers and cupped his hands to his mouth.

 

“Bess! Bess, can you bring me a chicken?”

 

“It isn’t even dinner time yet!” a country-tinged accent called back.

 

“We have a guest, dear.”

 

“What? I didn’t know we were having company! I’ll be out in a jiffy!”

 

Megan, eyes still fixed on Garth, prepared to strike at any second, waited in apprehension for the woman to appear. Bess walked into the room, apron tied around her waist, her blonde hair put up in a messy bun, and she held a small white plate. That had a heart on it. As soon as she saw Megan’s knife, she froze and nearly dropped the plate in shock.

 

“Garth, what’s going on?” Bess said slowly.

 

“Megan, we don’t eat humans. This is chicken. We have a pen in our barn. Please, put the knife away.”

 

Megan, still repulsed, reluctantly decided to put the knife back into her pocket, and she crossed her arms in front of her, still wary of Garth.

 

“Sheesh, you took it worse than Dean and Sam did.”

 

Megan wasn’t sure what the connotation of that statement was, but didn’t bother inquiring. If Sam and Dean Winchester knew about this and let him live, then she should as well. She watched Bobby get up off the floor and right the couch to its original position slowly, avoiding eye contact. He seemed a little scared of her now. He sat down on the couch, staring at his folded hands in silence. Megan started to feel a little guilty for throwing him, but at least he didn’t seem to be hurt. Bess has scuttled back into the kitchen, her attention being caught by something else, so Megan turned her attention back to Garth.

 

“Why did you become a werewolf?”

 

“Please, don’t use that term. It’s insulting. Anyways, to be honest, I didn’t choose to become one. But it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I got out of hunting, met my wife, started a family. I’m happier than I ever was as a hunter.”

 

Garth was so sincere, it was hard not to believe him. He just didn’t seem to be a bad guy, even though he was a werewolf.

 

Bess came running – well, that was too extreme. She had a tiny stride, like a mini power walk almost, and she always appeared to be on her toes – with a bowl of salsa chips and dip.

 

“Why, I’d recognize that darling face anywhere! You’re Cas’s girl, aren’t you? My, how you’ve grown!”

 

Anxious to skip the small talk, Megan nodded her head in appreciation towards her and popped a chip in her mouth.

 

“Well, now that the elephant’s left the room, you are going to train me to become a hunter.” Megan demanded.

 

She was done holding back her thoughts; this guy may have the best intentions, but that doesn’t excuse what he is.

 

“Well, alright, if you really want me to.” Garth said, his goofy smile returning.

 

Megan was shocked at his quick change of heart, almost laughing at how comical this guy was. But she didn’t really mind. As long as she got the training she needed, she didn’t care much about anything else.

\-------------

_Werewolves: weak to silver, they can either be born a werewolf or humans turned into them by a bite. They live off of hearts, preferably human, and transform when under duress._

\-------------

 

The saying, time flies, really didn’t seem to apply to the last two months of her life at the Fitzgerald’s. They had given her the guest bedroom, which seemed more like a renovated nursery room. The baby blue colors on the walls and the always vacuumed white carpet was unmistakable. It was also a degree or two over her comfort temperature, which was annoying, but otherwise, she had been enjoying her stay so far. The family was always so nice and happy. Megan was glad for them, but it got annoying fast. Garth and his wife, Bess, were always so lovey-dovey, and it made her want to puke. Even though they were both complete idiots, Garth knew a lot about hunting, and he taught her much these past two months. Combat training was a breeze, what with her strength, and learning about all the different types of monsters wasn’t all that difficult. She learned the basics such as how to fire a gun and handle all sorts of different weapons, but in the end she always liked her angel blade the most.

 

Of course, Megan still had more to learn before she could go hunting on her own. She may be stubborn, but she wasn’t reckless, and she acknowledged the fact that she needs to be able to go into this armed to the teeth with skills and information.

 

Megan was walking back from Garth’s chicken barn (he hadn’t been lying about that apparently), which had targets inside which she’d use to work on her gun handling, when she ran into Bobby. They hadn’t exchanged a word since the day they first met, and it was incredibly awkward. She wasn’t big on apologies, but the guilt had been chewing at her, and she finally needed to tell him.

 

Bobby ignored her, proceeding to walk around her when Megan grabbed his arm.

 

“Bobby, wait.” She said softly.

 

He turned towards her, and she let go of him.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“For?”

 

“Throwing you.”

 

Bobby blinked, and they stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Then Bobby started rubbing his neck and looked at the ground.

 

“I’m not mad at you; I forgave you a long time ago.”

 

“Then what is it? Why won’t you talk to me?”

 

Megan had to keep reminding herself that she normally wouldn’t care if it weren’t for the fact that the silence between them was a complete pain. She felt so stupid and vulnerable doing this, but she desperately wanted the silence to go away. Bobby looked up at her, his eyebrows creased with a small frown, staring her down with those big puppy-dog eyes of his.

 

“It’s because… I’m afraid of you.”

 

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, because Megan wasn’t entirely sure what he meant.

 

“Afraid?”

 

“You’re a hunter. You kill monsters, like me. That’s your job. You kill evil things. And even though I know I’m a living sin, I’m afraid of dying. I’m afraid you’ll kill me. I can see that look in your eyes, the look of if it’s a monster, if it’s evil, it should be killed.”

 

And she thought she didn’t know how to respond to the last one. Megan looked away from his face, but couldn’t avoid the glimpse she caught of those eyes, those red puffy cheeks, that pained look on his face. Megan had no clue what to say, mainly because he wasn’t wrong. She had had thoughts of killing Garth and all the werewolves in town once he finished training her, but could she do it, and would it be the right thing? Did these monsters deserve to die?

 

She thought on it for a moment, then decided. Megan lunged towards Bobby, and he flinched in surprise to see that she was hugging him. Her face was all red with blush for having such a girly moment, but he looked like he needed to hear this.

 

“You’re right about one thing- I kill evil things. But you’re not evil, Bobby.”

 

\-----------------

_While good supernatural beings exist, it's still in moral debate among hunters as to whether or not they should be allowed to live._

\-----------------

 

The next four months were much easier now that Bobby and Megan got along. They started hanging out together, and it was nice to have a friend, even though he was a major stick in the mud. They would sit in Garth’s backyard, which was just a bunch of beautiful rolling hills that Garth spent a lot of his time mowing, and either stare at the clouds or talk. Well, he would listen while Megan did most of the talking, anyways. Bobby didn’t say much, but he always looked so happy, so she didn’t think much of it. She was envious of him and his family; always so happy. But, then again, being purely happy all the time didn’t seem like the kind of life for her.

 

Garth had finished teaching her everything he knew about hunting, and Megan knew it was time for her to leave. Garth gave her a case to chase in Pittsburgh, and he gave her a trunk load of hunting gear. He had built in a hidden compartment in the trunk where she could keep her weapons without looking like a serial killer. She had finished packing her little collection of belongings, and put it in the backseat as Garth and his family came outside to say good-bye.

 

“You’ve really become a part of the family, Meg. We’ll miss you.” Said Bess, a bittersweet smile on her face.

 

Megan just tossed her a quick side grin over her shoulder. She wasn’t a fan of sappy good byes. She turned around to say something when the whole family trapped her in a group hug. She started to suffocate, but for once didn’t protest. The Fitzgerald’s had grown on her a bit, and even though she’d never admit it, she was going to miss them.

 

When they finally let go, Garth waved and walked back into the house, tears at the corners of his eyes, while Bess was already bawling like a baby. The only one who stayed outside was Bobby.

 

“Well, guess this is it.” He said, awkwardly look at the ground, hands shoved in his pockets.

 

Megan sighed and rolled her eyes.

 

“You obviously have something you want to say, so out with it.”

 

Bobby looked up, giving her the signature big sad eyes, hands fiddling around with whatever was in his pockets. His face was all red, and he had sort of a desperate look on his face.

 

“I want to go with you!” he blurted.

 

Megan turned away from him, shut the trunk, and turned back towards him.

 

“Sure, on one condition: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 2

Ben

Ben was sitting in his dorm at his desk, studying his notes for the upcoming test when he heard the door open. In walked his roommate, Andrew, who was a walking mystery. He was emo, with his black, side swept hair that covered one eye, black eye shadow, black clothes, black this, black that. He also had pale skin, but don’t think because he’s emo that he is fragile. He works out a lot, and surprisingly is very fit and muscular. He was the dark heart-throb of Duquesne University, but Ben didn’t really care about that, and neither did Andrew: they were here for law degrees. Andrew and he share almost all of their classes, and they had become friends despite their drastic differences.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked, craning his neck over his notebook to see what he was doing.

 

“Studying for the test. Streib really laid it on thick today, and I haven’t come this far to flunk out.”

 

Andrew sat down beside him, looking interested, but in what Ben couldn’t tell. He could never really tell what he was thinking.

 

“Anna asked me out today. I told her no.”

 

Ben looked up from his notes, one eyebrow raised and a sly smile on his face.

 

“Well, look at you, turning down beautiful girls. If Anna asked me out, I would’ve said yes.”

 

“She did ask you out, and you did say yes, remember?”

 

Ben leaned back on his chair, thinking, then a wide grin stretched across his face.

 

“Oh yeah. Man, you should’ve said yes. She’s quite the catch.”

 

“She’s a whore, Ben.” Andrew sighed.

 

Ben shrugged his shoulders, leaning forward into his notes again.

 

“So?”

 

He could feel Andrew’s slight annoyance as he went to his side of the room. They had agreed to split their room in half, and the division was clearly visible. Ben’s side was messy, with his clothes and boxers scattered everywhere, but other than his laptop and phone, Ben didn’t have much. Andrew’s half was very organized, almost creepily so. His bed was always made so perfectly you could bounce a quarter off of it. He had an old, mahogany chest at the foot of his bed where he kept all of his clothes neatly folded. His desk had a board that had many post it notes decorating it and a stack of papers on his desk, just waiting to be used. Andrew usually studied with Ben at his desk though; even though Ben’s desk was usually covered in books and papers, Andrew cleaned it up for him weekly, and Ben swore he enjoyed it.

 

He heard him rummaging through his things, and Andrew walked back over with a notebook, slapping it down beside him. He pulled up a chair beside him, his face wearing his always-neutral expression.

 

“I’ll study with you.”

 

Ben gave him a hard pat on the shoulder.

 

“Thanks, man.”

After a few minutes, a couple knocks reverberated off their door. Andrew got up, huffing with impatience, and opened the door. The three guys on the other side were big party-goers, and their expressions dropped as soon as they saw Andrew.

 

“What do you want?” mumbled Andrew.

 

“We’re here for the cool one, Ben.” Answered the man in the middle.

 

Ben, at this point, got up and walked over. He recognized them; Lance, Dylan and Will.

 

“Hey, Lance, go easy on him.” Said Ben, giving a slight warning to his friends.

 

They caught the message, and they pulled Ben out of the doorway towards them. Andrew didn’t bother saying anything and shut the door. As they dragged him down the hallway, Ben couldn’t help but feel that he’d insulted him.

 

“Alright, Ben, there’s this huge party tonight, and you’re coming with us!” said Dylan.

 

“I don’t know, man. I have a test coming up…”

 

“Ben, c’mon, I was in that class; Streib went over some pretty basic stuff. If you need to study just to get that, then you should drop out.” Challenged Will, arms crossed over his chest.

 

Ben’s eyebrows narrowed in anger for a second, but he quickly switched to his usual cocky look.

 

“Alright, fine. Let’s go.”

 

\---------------------

_The majority of people live their whole lives without ever encountering any form of supernatural beings._

\---------------------

Ben looked in the mirror, quickly looking himself over. His black hair was neatly groomed, his hair style being the average slicked back look. Working out with Andrew had gotten him into shape, though he wasn’t extremely muscular either; more or less a slightly above average build. His amber-green eyes looked ok, matching his slightly-tanned skin. He checked his breath, licked his lips and walked out into the bedroom. He met a girl at the party, and she was absolutely stunning. Blonde hair, the perfect curved figure, those thick, full, red lips of hers… The minute he saw her, Ben knew he had to have her.

 

To be honest, he didn’t even know her name, but he didn’t care, and neither did she as he joined her on the bed. As he kissed her, his thoughts floated back to what had happened at the party. He had arrived there in his friend’s sports car. Lance was crazy rich, and had rented out a Ruby Tuesday’s for a day somehow. The party involved a lot of drinking, dancing, and crazy dares. As the night went on, guys started picking girls to take out with them, and Ben had done the same. He remembered the pat on the back he got from Will as he walked out with his girl, and he just gave him a quick smile and walked out, glad to get away from the party; despite how much he partied, he didn’t like the noise.

 

Ben shook himself back to the present, and wrapped his arms around her, lowering her onto her back. He started making his way down her stomach, and could hear her gasp a little, but Ben’s thoughts got the best of him again and he drifted away. He went back to the moment before he left, when he was studying with Andrew. He still felt guilty about it; there was something about the way that he just left him without a second thought. There was no reason for him to feel guilty, but he did, and it was bothering him.

 

The girl started to moan louder, and Ben shoved it to the back of his mind. He might as well enjoy himself.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Crying, shaking, Ben tried his best to be brave. But he was terrified. His mother held a knife to his throat, and Ben couldn’t hold back the tears and began bawling. A man stood several feet away from them, a knife in hand.

 

“W-what…?” the man sputtered in shock.

 

“Crowley told me to wear her as insurance. You didn’t think he’d know you’d come to the rescue?” his mother replied.

 

“You know, now that I am inside Lisa, I know her thoughts and memories. This boy here is your son, Dean.”

 

“That’s a lie.” he replied, a controlled rage welling his voice, and he took a step closer.

 

Suddenly, Ben felt a burning feeling spreading across his throat and he let out a shriek. He could feel blood dripping down his neck.

 

“Don’t come any closer!” she yelled at him, and the man stopped immediately.

 

“Now, I have something to tell you too, kid. Your mother doesn’t actually love you. She never did. You’re just a mistake she made years ago that she got stuck with! Well, no worries, I’ll help her fix it!”

 

The man made a lightning-quick movement and splashed water onto them, and his mother started screaming. Ben ran away from his mother as Dean went towards her, but the demon shouted “DIE!” and stabbed herself in the stomach with a knife. A black entity exited his mother, and her limp body fell to the floor with a sickening thump. Dean started shouting, and collapsed to his knees beside his mother. He picked her up gently, a stone cold expression on his face, and turned to Ben.

 

“Ben, take this.”

 

The man handed him a shotgun that was laying on the floor, but Ben was shocked and couldn’t move or think. Suddenly, Dean then slapped him, and pushed the gun onto his chest, forcing him to hold it.

 

“Ben, now’s not the time. If you see anyone, shoot. You understand?”

 

The gun shook in his hands, but he nodded anyways.

 

His vision starts to haze until he can’t see anything, and all he can hear is the sound of gunshots, over and over again…

 

\-------------------------------

_Demons: are able to possess people. They are weak to salt, holy water, and certain special weapons. They can be exorcised and sent back to hell, but they can return. Demons are also immortal, aka they cannot be killed by normal means, and need to be exorcised or killed with a special weapon. Demons can also manifest outside of possessed people as black smoke._

\-------------------------------

Ben slowly sat up in his bed, rubbing his face with both hands. His face was wet with tears, and he sighed. Another nightmare that he never remembered. He got up, and the first thing he noticed was that the girl was gone. Not that he cared much; it was just a one night stand. He checked the clock and nearly had a heart attack. It was 1 pm. He had slept through class. He jumped up, panicked, and scrambled for his cell phone. It was on the night table, and it was dead. He could’ve sworn he charged it, but quickly shoved it in his pocket. Letting out a huff of frustration, he ran out the door, and started sprinting back to campus.

Once he made it back to the dorm, he burst in. He gathered all of his school materials, and as he was about to leave he saw a person-shaped lump in Andrew’s bed. He had overslept as well.

 

“Andrew! Damn it, we overslept! Get up!”

 

Ben ran over to him, backpack slung over his shoulder. He shook him vigorously, but Andrew didn’t move. Ben started to wake up, and he started thinking things through. He didn’t have an alarm clock because Andrew woke him up every morning… he religiously gets up at 6 am and goes for a run. He never over sleeps.

 

Fearing the worst, Ben slowly lifted the blanket up and he immediately had to look away. He collapsed onto the floor, heaving, trying not to throw up. Andrew’s body was covered in blood, and he had multiple holes and tears, as if he’d been tortured. Ben started to hyperventilate, but he steeled his will and crawled over to Andrew’s cell phone, which was on the floor only a few feet away. Before he got there, the lights started to blink on and off, and the temperature suddenly dropped dramatically. He could now see his breathe. Ben looked up, slowly, and saw a tall man standing over him, with shoulder length brown hair, bloody knife in hand, and a look that could kill. It was cold, numb, but at the same time driven, mad, and desperate. Before he could even react, the person disappeared. Ben, convinced he was going insane, continued towards the phone. Finally reaching it, he dialed 911.

 

\---------------------------

_Many supernatural beings cause electromagnetic disturbances._

\---------------------------

Ben walked out of the police station, feeling numb. His reaction yesterday was cowardly; he needed to wake up and face the facts. That ghost murdered Andrew and was trying to pin it on him. Why, he didn’t know, but that didn’t matter. And he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was find out who did this, and make him pass onto the next life or whatever it is ghosts do.

 

After being held for two days, they finally let him go, having no hard-evidence against him and nothing to charge him for. He walked through downtown, wanting to stretch his legs. Pittsburgh was a nice place to live in, being small and convenient. Everything he could ever need was packed in a small space, which let him save on gas immensely. The traffic could be better, but it didn’t bother him much because he rarely left campus anyways. Ben couldn’t go back yet, though. Not until he figured out what was going on.

 

He walked into the Carnegie Library, and started his research. He wanted to know everything there was to know about ghosts. He took into consideration the fact that not every book he came across would be entirely accurate, but certainly there must be some common denominators. Ben grabbed an armful of books, set them down at an abandoned table in the back, and began reading.

 

The majority of it seemed to be false, not that Ben was an expert on the supernatural. There were some things all the books mentioned, however. Ghosts seemed to be weak to salt and iron, and they could be put to rest if their bones are burned. There was no way he was going to be digging up a grave anytime soon, so salt and iron will have to do. Besides, he couldn’t dig up the grave even if he wanted to; he had no clue who the ghost was.

 

Ben ran his hands through hair, and laid his head on the table. How could this happen to him? Why did this happen? How did he end up like this, being interrogated for days, and upon release doing research on ghosts? He was going crazy. Ben rose from the table, legs asleep from all the sitting he’d been doing lately, and he started the long walk back to campus. Ben moved slowly, letting his thoughts guide him. If he hadn’t gone to that party, if he hadn’t left Andrew, none of this would’ve happened. Andrew was always there for him, not that stupid trio who didn’t even bother calling to see if he was okay. Instead of being a good friend, instead of studying, he created this mess, and he felt like everything was crumbling, like his life was spiraling out of control. Ben had to stop walking and put his hand on a nearby building, head bent over, left hand covering his face as he tried to slow down his breathing and control his emtions.

 

He screwed up, and Andrew was dead because of him. Not only dead, but brutally tortured to death. The police had filled him in on all the details of his death while interrogating him, and the images he had in his mind were scarring.

 

He decided right then that this self-pity was useless, and that he needed to be logical. He wasn’t going to be some helpless bystander. He was going to get the son of a bitch who did this, and avenge Andrew’s death. It was the least Ben could do.

 

\---------------------------------

_Ghosts: spirits of people who refused or aren't able to pass onto the afterlife. Slowly go mad and become dangerous. Ghosts can be forcefully departed by burning their bones or destroying what's holding them onto earth._

\---------------------------------

 

He got back late, and was practically a zombie. Ben stumbled into his dorm, and flipped on the lights only to find three guys sitting in his dorm. He recognized them: Lance, Dylan, and Will. Lance was sprawled on his stomach on Ben’s bed, looking through a magazine with feigned interest, while Will was rummaging through Ben’s mini fridge and Dylan was sitting at his desk, spinning impatiently in fast little circles.

 

“I’m not in a party mood, ok? Let me sleep.”

 

The trio exchanged devious look; they were up to something, per usual. Well, Ben seriously wasn’t in the mood.

 

“Guys, I mean it.”

 

“Alright, alright! Have it your way.”

 

The threesome got up from their positions and moved to the door, and Ben walked towards his bed, but he never heard the sound of their footsteps leaving. Suspicious, he turned around in sync to the sound of his door locking, and his heart nearly jumped out of his throat as he saw the looks on his friends’ faces.

 

“What are you doing…?”

 

“Oh, just having some fun.” Hissed Will, and before Ben could respond, they were on him.

 

Will and Dylan held him down to the bed by his arms, and Ben struggled against them, attempting to kick, headbutt, bite, anything. Lance, a malicious smile on his face, winded up his right arm and landed a solid blow to his right temple, causing him to groan through clenched teeth.

 

“The cops may be a little slow, but we know you killed Andrew. You’re gonna pay.”

 

Ben was berated with blow after blow, and as he neared unconsciousness, he swore he heard his lock being picked, but then everything went black as Lance’s fist came rushing towards his nose.

~~from around campus, but didn’t know them personally.~~

 

\--------------------

 

Ben woke up in the nurse’s office, and he tried to get up but quickly discovered that he could barely move. The pain in his ribs was excruciating, and he collapsed back onto the bed, his body suddenly registering all of his pain. He turned his head to see a girl standing at a countertop, preparing some kind of concoction. She was dressed in all white, so she had to be a nurse. When she turned around, Ben recognized her immediately.

 

“Sarah, hey, baby.” He called, and Sarah flashed him a quick smile and sat down on the edge of his bed.

 

“Hey, bad boy. Looks like you got in a bit of trouble.” She replied, and handed him the medicine she had been preparing.

 

“Pain killer. Should also make you heal up faster. You’re lucky you’re so strong; you should only be sore for today if you take this every six hours.”

 

Ben gulped down the stuff, not really bothered by its horrendous taste. He licked his lips afterwards, and sat up in the bed. Sarah gave him a cocky look, and pushed him back onto the bed with a single finger to the chest.

 

“Rest up. You aren’t going anywhere.”

 

She got up from the bed and walked out of the room. He sighed and sunk into his pillow. That girl was such a tease. But she always caved in, so Ben could be patient. He folded his arms behind his head, and tried to fall asleep, but the room was foreign to him. His bed was more of a strip of purple lamented couch with a headrest at the end of it, and the floor was tiled black and white with bleached walls. So much white that it bothered his eyes a bit, he let them shut after a few moments of apprehension.

 

Letting out a sigh of contempt, he felt his breath escape between his lips. Blinking his eyes open, Ben became paranoid; he thought he noticed something. He let out a sigh again, and Ben realized he could see his breath. There’s no way this room could be that cold. Panicking, he sat up in bed, but that’s as far as he could get before his ribs protested.

 

“Sarah! Sarah, come here!” he yelled, but he didn’t get a response.

 

Ben forced himself to get out of bed, and he stumbled into the next room, and his legs gave out from under him when he saw Sarah. On his hands and knees, he stared at her limp, bloody body on the floor. There was no blanket to cover what had happened this time, but surprisingly, Ben maintained control of himself. Leaning on the door frame, Ben rose to his feet, and he looked around for a phone, but instead the tall man-ghost appeared again. He backed out of the frame, closing the door behind him, and he kept the door closed with what little strength he had. Starting to relax, he turned around only to find the man there again. Letting out a panicked gasp, Ben held onto the wall and made his way as fast as he could to the medicine cabinet, and quickly started looking for salt. The ghost was slowly walking towards him, as he could hear his footsteps, and he knew the ghost was taking his time, letting him struggle. Ben’s heart was racing, and he started throwing bottles all over the place. Finding nothing, he turned back to the ghost to see it standing right in front of him.

 

“Save him.”

 

“Save who?” Ben responded quietly.

 

The ghost swung his arm to the right angrily, and Ben was thrown in that direction, pinned to the wall. A pained groan rumbled in the back of his throat. The ghost was using some kind of psychic powers.

 

The man walked over to him, looking angrier than before, if that was even possible.

 

“Save. Him.”

 

“Yeah! Sure, whatever you want!” Ben replied quickly, fearing the worst.

 

The ghost nodded once slowly, let him go, and disappeared.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

_A signature of ghosts is when they enter a room, the temperature of the room drops dramatically. Powerful ghosts also possess psychic powers._

_\------------------------------------------------------_

Back in the police station again. Wonderful. This time they were keeping him; they were charging him with murder. His chances of being found not guilty weren’t looking all that great; he was the only person present at both crime scenes. He immediately asked for a lawyer, and was silent as the police tried to make him talk. Ben was studying law; he knew what to do and what not to do.

 

The court arranged for him to have a public defender, and Ben wasn’t thrilled about it, but he really didn’t have any money for a good lawyer. He could’ve asked his mother, but he didn’t want her to know about this or get involved. Besides, she wasn’t exactly rich either, and Ben felt wrong asking his mother to give him money so he could get out of being charged for murder. As he waited, feeling bored to death, a man and woman walked in, both wearing expensive black suits, except the girl had on a trench coat.

 

“Hello, I’m Agent Novak, and this is Agent Walt. We’re from the FBI.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 3

Megan

Entering the tiny interrogation room, Megan flashed the witness her fake badge, and Bobby did the same. The room was a boring grey, with a camera in two corners of the room and a single desk with three chairs. She was cool-headed, and Bobby was surprisingly stoic and stern in his own quiet-little way that he just gave off an air of importance, even though this was a complete act.

 

Fixing her trench coat’s collar, she sat down at the interrogation table, Bobby joining her.

 

“I already asked for a lawyer. I’m not going to tell you anything.” Said Ben Braeden, calmly.

 

“We’re on your side. We know you didn’t do this.” Megan replied, keeping the nonchalant superiority in the room going.

 

Ben let out a scoff, and crossed his arms across his chest.

 

“Really? What evidence do you have that I didn’t do this? Maybe you should be speaking with my lawyer if you’re on my side.”

 

Before Megan could reply, Bobby interjected their snarky bantering.

 

“We know that you’ve seen something strange. We need you to tell us what.”

 

Ben’s eyebrows perked, and he looked the duo over again. Megan was just as surprised as he was; Bobby wasn’t the type to interrupt anyone, let alone speak. Ben seemed to be talking to himself before coming to a decision. He leaned forward, his voice lowered into a whisper.

 

“Are you guys really the FBI?”

 

“Look, we can help you get out of this, but you need to tell us what happened

 

Ben leaned back into his chair, and ran his right hand through his hair.

 

“Well, I saw a ghost. I think.”

 

Bobby pulled out a notepad and pen, and began writing. Megan was relieved; she’d forgotten to bring hers.

 

“Let me refresh your memory. According to this report,” Megan said, pulling a file out of her jacket, “your roommate, Andrew Forrest, was brutally tortured to death. The police suspected you originally because you missed class that day and had no alibi, but let you go after having no evidence. At the next crime,” Megan continued, searching her jacket, unable to find the second report.

 

She blushed, and looked over to Bobby, who had it with him. Ben gave her a slight disbelieving look, but Megan chose to ignore it.

 

“Thanks, Bobby.” She muttered quickly, coughed, and continued, “As I was saying, at the next scene, you were at the nurse’s office, and you were the only one in her office at the time of death. No video was caught, however, because of an electronics malfunction with the cameras. What doesn’t add up is the fact that we have video of you waking up, talking with the nurse, then a span of seven minutes where the camera malfunctions, then it comes back on to reveal the nurse’s brutally tortured body, no blood on you, and you’re in a completely different room, crawling towards a phone.” Megan finished, feeling quite professional and accomplished with her summary.

 

Ben had been intently listening the whole time, and seemed to be making some connections in his head as he did so. Bobby remained silent, hands shoved into his pockets, and Megan sensed something was wrong with him, but knew now really wasn’t the best moment to ask what.

 

“Well, for the first murder, I didn’t enter the room until a little after 1. I walked in and saw Andrew like that. You’ll have to excuse the fact that I’m not used to seeing brutally tortured bodies of my friends, as I collapsed to the ground and nearly threw up. I saw his phone across the room, and started crawling over when the ghost appeared. I think it was a ghost, anyways.”

 

“This part’s important. We need every little detail of what happened. Did the room feel colder, or did the lights blink? Maybe you heard a strange noise in your walls…?”

 

“Yeah, the room got colder. And the lights thing, too. Anyways, he didn’t say anything, he just disappeared.”

 

Bobby leaned closer to Megan, and she flinched slightly, as she had kinda forgotten about him in the middle of her conversation.

 

“I’d say we’re dealing with a ghost. How powerful, though, I don’t know.” He whispered, and Megan nodded.

 

“At the next crime, the room got colder, which is how I knew he was coming. I tried to warn Sarah, but I was already too late. I tried to find salt in the medicine cabinets, but now that I think about it, why would there be salt in the medicine cabinets?” he said, with a chuckle.

 

“How did you know that ghosts are weak to salt?”

 

“Oh. Well, I had originally suspected that it was a ghost because of the way he appeared and disappeared, is all. I did some research at the library about them, and I managed to gather that much.”

 

Megan and Bobby exchanged a glance. This guy was handling the fact that supernatural beings existed surprisingly well. Too well, in fact.

 

“Anyways, he threw me against the wall just by moving his arm. Like he was using the force or something. I was pinned, and he asked me to “save him”. He looked like he was about to kill me, so I said yes. He nodded, and left, and that was when I collapsed and went for the phone.”

 

“One last thing. Could you describe the ghost’s appearance to us?”

 

“Let’s see… He had shoulder length, brown hair, and was really tall; definitely over 6’. He seemed young, maybe in his 20s or 30s, and he was well built. His clothes were normal; something plaid with jeans. But what got me the most about this guy was his eyes. They were so angry, yet so desperate…” Ben trailed off, seeming to go back to the moment.

 

Bobby rose from the table, and Megan awkwardly did the same.

 

“That’s all we need, Ben. Thank you for your time.” Said Bobby.

 

“Yeah, thanks. You need anything, here’s my number.”

 

She handed him a card with her fake identity on it, feeling very grown up and professional. As they turned to leave, she heard the squeak of a chair sliding as Ben stood up.

 

“Wait. What are you going to do?”

 

“We’re going to take care of the ghost and get you out of here.” She replied without turning around.

 

“That ghost is my problem. It obviously has some bone to pick with me, so don’t think I’m going to just hand you my problems and hope you’re a miracle worker.”

 

“Stay out of the way.” Bobby replied, sternly, and walked out.

 

Megan, shocked at his sudden outburst, followed him out, taking one last glance at the angry look on Ben’s face before walking out.

 

\-----

_Since hunting doesn't include getting paid, many hunters live off of credit card fraud, theft, and hustling. They also get the majority of their information by using fake identities._

_\-----_

 

“What was that?”

 

Her tone was angry, but she was actually concerned for Bobby. She’d never seen him act this aggressively before, and Megan wanted to know what was wrong.

 

“What are you talking about?” Bobby replied softly, his usual look back.

 

Megan shook her head, deciding now wasn’t a good time either.

 

“Never mind. Okay, I think we can agree that the ghost has some connection to Ben. I’ll drive you back to the hotel and you can do a background check on him while I go to the morgue and check out the two victims. I’ll call you with the MO and you can look up similar deaths or circumstances in the area. Got it?”

 

Bobby nodded, and flashed her a little grin. That’s the Bobby she knew. Giving him a grin back, they walked back to her G6 together, Megan driving, Bobby shotgun, Three Day’s Grace blasting.

When she pulled into the Motel 8, which, admittedly, looked very sketchy from the outside, but they didn’t have much money. Bobby got out, awkwardly ducking under the door because he was just a bit too tall. Once out, he flashed her a thumbs up, then turned around and walked into the room they had rented. They shared a room together, but with two beds. Megan wasn’t interested in Bobby romantically at all; they were just friends, working together. To be honest, she was glad she wasn’t alone.

 

Megan then drove off to the morgue, and deciding she was in the mood for Panic! At the Disco, she messed on her phone a bit until one of their songs came up. Humming, she arrived at the morgue, the music still playing in her head.

 

“Agent Novak, FBI. I’m here to see Andrew Forrest and Sarah Norwall.”

 

The mortician silently led the way down a long hallway, and she was glad they didn’t talk. He looked like a bit of a creep, hunched over in a white lab coat and balding. They arrived at the door, and he played with a ring of keys until he found the right one and unlocked the door. Fiddling with the chain again, he unlocked two metal cabinets and pulled both of the bodies out. He left the room without a word.

 

Megan compared the injuries of the bodies side by side, and although both were gruesome and messy, they both had the same injuries. They both had been stabbed multiple times in non-fatal areas for maximum torture; the longer they were alive, the more they could suffer. Leaning in closer, she nearly gagged upon the smell; but how was that possible? They had only died yesterday. Left hand covering her mouth, she slipped on a pair of blue latex gloves and rubbed her finger upon the victim’s lower lip. There was a powdery substance there, and she knew she’d recognized the smell: sulfur. Sighing, Megan called Bobby, and he answered on the first ring.

 

“Hey. So, I’m here at the morgue, and guess what: I found traces of sulfur on the vics.”

 

“Really? Think they were both possessed by demons? Oh, and also, Pittsburgh has its fair share of crimes, but ‘violent torture’ is unfortunately too broad. Anything you can give me to narrow the search?”

 

“Not really. They appear to have been murdered with a knife, but the wounds aren’t particular enough to search either. I think we should chase this demon lead. Why is a ghost killing demons?” Megan sighed.

 

“Well, both demons were in close proximity to Ben; maybe it’s acting as a guardian of sorts. Maybe we could check on him.”

 

“Yeah, he seems to be the only lead we got, anyways. We’ll stake out the police station tonight and see if anything happens.”

 

\-------

Ben had fallen asleep, head on the table, arms cushioning him, when he woke up. He wasn’t sure what woke him up, but he was cold. He tried yanking on his jacket and curling up in the chair, to no avail. He let out a sigh, then he saw it. Ben could see his breath. Letting out a frustrated growl, he scrambled out of the chair and started banging on the door.

 

“Officer! Officer!” he yelled, still banging on the door.

 

The door finally opened after a few minutes to reveal an officer with bags under his eyes.

 

“What do you want?” he growled, annoyed at Ben for waking him up.

 

He suddenly realized he couldn’t tell the officer that a ghost was here and was going to murder somebody. Thinking fast, Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out the card Agent Novak had given him.

 

“I’d like to make a phone call.”

 

The police lead him towards the phone without a word, and Ben restrained himself from running to it. It was on the other side of the office, and he looked the room over with nervous eyes. Police cubbies were everywhere, evenly spaced with dividers, and at one end of the room there was a grand desk, probably for the chief. The room was dimly lit, and there were no officers here besides the one leading him. Moving at a glacial pace, they finally reached the phone, and he dialed as fast as he could, hoping to God that she would pick up.

 

“C’mon…. C’mon….”

 

“This is Agent Novak.”

 

“Agent! Listen, the ghost is here!” he whispered urgently.

 

“We’ll be right there. Don’t move.”

 

She hung up before he could say anything more. Ben looked around, noticed the lights were flickering now, and started to feel desperate. He hadn’t “saved him” yet, so Mr.Ghost Man probably wasn’t going to be too happy. Panicking, Ben looked around for salt or iron, incredibly annoyed by the fact that this was the third supernatural event in two days. Before he even finished sweeping the room, he was thrown into a police officer’s cubby, smashing into the computer on their desk. Sparks flew, and the lights went off. Groaning, still feeling the beat down he’d gotten from those “friends” yesterday, he rolled off the desk and onto the chair. He sat there, trying to catch his breath and not faint from all the pain he was feeling. Ben looked around, searching for the ghost. It was dark, and he could only see a couple feet in front of him. Suddenly, a loud bang sounded, and he ducked in the chair.

 

“Ben! Ben, hold on, we’re here!” called Agent Novak.

 

Ben rose from the chair, determined not to sit and wait for his rescuer. He walked out of the cubby and turned down a hallway only to come face to face with the cop who’d let him make the phone call.

 

“It’s dangerous; we need to get out of here. Now.” Said Ben, grabbing him.

 

He tried to drag him away, but the officer stood stone still, and no matter how hard he pulled, the man didn’t budge. The officer, instead, wordlessly grabbed him by the arm, twisting it, and Ben found himself pinned by the officer to the floor.

 

“W-what are you doing? Let go of me! We don’t have time for this!” he protested, but to no avail.

 

The sound of running grew louder, and soon he saw the two FBI agents, guns aimed at the officer. They began to step forward, but the officer swung his free arm to the left and they both flew into the wall, colliding with a painful thump. The officer then turned towards him.

 

“Ben, listen to me. That isn’t a police officer. The ghost is possessing him.” Grunted Agent Novak, who was struggling against the ghost’s powers.

 

Ghosts could possess people too? Great. The ghost-officer untwisted his arm, and handcuffed him to a table.

 

“Now we can talk.” Said the officer, speaking in a different voice.

 

Ben just nodded, unsure of what to say.

 

“You will never find my bones, or completely destroy everything that is grounding me to earth. If you wish to live, and wish for me to rest, you must save Dean Winchester.”

 

“Who the hell is Dean Winchester, and how come I have to do it?” whined Ben.

 

The ghost closed his fist, and Ben began to choke. Holding his left hand to his throat, since his right was cuffed to the table, he tried to open his airway, but he couldn’t until the ghost opened his fist. Gasping, Ben was on his knees, again.

 

“Dean Winchester is in hell. Save him.”

 

Both agents simultaneously broke free of the ghost’s powers, and charged him. Agent Walt went first, tackling him to the ground. He wrestled him on the floor, and the ghost struggled against him. Agent Novak then pulled out a container of what appeared to be salt and started pouring it into the officer’s mouth. That looked… disgusting. A grayish-white smoke cloud exited the man’s mouth and reformed into the tall man he’d met at both of the crime scenes. He seemed hurt, and was down on one knee, grunting in pain. Both agents approached him, guns pointed, and Agent Novak signaled for her partner to wait. She lowered her gun, and a surprised look was on her face.

 

“You’re kidding me. You’re… you’re Sam Winchester.” She whispered.

 

The ghost looked up at her, a pained look on his face. He rose to his feet, and he towered over everyone in the room. His gaze was the same as before: desperate and cold. This ghost… Sam… would do whatever he had to.

 

“Yes, I am. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is I need his help: Ben Braeden’s help.”

 

Ben rose to his feet, but was still restricted by his handcuffs.

 

“Yeah, well, you have a strange way of asking for it.” He mumbled.

 

“But he’s not a hunter. He’s just a citizen. We’re hunters; let us help you.” responded Novak.

 

Sam shook his head in disagreement.

 

“No. Only he can help me. He can save Dean.”

 

The two agents shared a glance, seemingly having a whole conversation with just a look, then they both turned back to the ghost.

 

“Let us help him, at least.”

 

Sam’s gaze swept over them, then back to him, and back to them again.

 

“Fine. But just know that if you try to interfere… I can and will kill you.”

 

Ben wasn’t about to stand here and take this.

 

“Now wait a second. You show up here, kill my friends, innocent people, and expect me to help you? Well, you got another thing coming. I’m going to finish you. Don’t think that I’d ever, EVER, help you, because I’d rather die than help the… thing that murdered my friend.”

 

Sam turned towards him, and he could’ve sworn he saw a slight smile on his face. But his expression quickly went back to its same cold, desperate look.

 

“Those weren’t your friends. Andrew was possessed by a demon, and Sarah was also. Anyways, go to the bunker. It’s a safe place. If you need me… call.”

 

And he disappeared without another word. The lights came back on, and the temperature returned to normal. The agents both stood still, looking a little shell shocked. The officer on the floor was still out, but other than that no one else was here to notice this little scene anyways.

 

“Hey, you going to get me out of these cuffs or what?”

 

\------------

_While many ghosts do not have this ability, some powerful ghosts have the ability to possess people and use them to do their bidding. However, ghosts are usually tied to a specific place or item, and can only move within a certain distance of said place or item, even if possessing a person._

\------------

 

Ben walked out of the police station, and he hoped he’d never have to return. Parked out front was a red G6, with both of the agents waiting for him, Novak leaning on the car, Bobby standing beside her stiffly.

 

“So, what, you pull a couple favors for me or something?”

 

“No, we came up with a convincing story that the ‘killer’ broke into the station and tried to kill all of us, but escaped. So you’re off the hook. Unfortunately, the case will be open for a while, but they’ll stop looking eventually.”

 

“Well, thanks. But, what do we do now?”

 

“There’s no we. You’re going back to school, and we’re going to continue hunting this ghost.” Said Walt.

 

“No, that isn’t an option. If he stays here, Sam will kill him.” Argued Novak.

 

“But Sam needs him; he was just trying to intimidate Ben, so he won’t kill him. Besides, he isn’t our responsibility; our responsibility is to the case.”

 

“Bobby, he’s our case, so he’s our responsibility. Ben, you’re coming with us.”

 

“No, he-“

 

“Shut up and let me think!” Ben interjected, breaking up their annoying argument.

 

This ghost, Sam Winchester, obviously chose him to do this for a reason. While he didn’t think he was anything extra special, Sam made this his problem, and he wasn’t going to let other people handle it for him. Of course, he had no clue what he was doing, or what to do, or how, so he obviously needed their help. All he knew was that he had to send this ghost onto the afterlife or die trying.

 

This ghost is forcing him to throw his life away, all hopes of having a career, graduating from college, to run off with two wannabe “hunters”, abandon his mother, everything he’d ever known, just to save one man. A man he’d never heard of. Fine, he’d do it, if he didn’t find a way to kill this ghost first. But when this was over, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d get his revenge. One way or another, he’d make the Winchesters pay for screwing up his life, because Ben could tell that there was no turning back, no going back to a normal life, not after this.

 

“I’m going with you. Take me to the bunker, or whatever he said. We’ve got work to do."


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 4

Megan

 

“Alright, well, we’ll start with the basics. My name’s Megan Urtecho, and I hunt supernatural creatures.” she started, breaking the ice as she drove.

 

“This is my partner, Bobby Fitzgerald.”

 

Bobby was silent as he sat in shotgun, staring at the window with a pensive look on his face. She still hadn’t gotten around to asking him what was wrong, but asking him in front of Ben seemed like a violation of their trust and privacy.

 

“You sound like you're introducing yourself to Alcoholics Anonymous. Anyways, you guys already know me, so… But, enough with the awkward introductions. Is what Sam said true? You can’t kill him?” he asked, leaning forward in-between the front seats.

 

“I’m not sure. We have no clue where Sam’s bones are, and whether or not they’ve already been cremated. Ghosts are held to earth by something, and the problem is we have no clue what that something is.”

 

Every hunter knew of Sam and Dean Winchester, the world's two greatest hunters. They retired years ago, after stopping the apocalypse, sending the leviathans back to purgatory, and restoring peace and balance to heaven and hell. Her father, Castiel, was a classic partner to the duo, and most considered them a trio: Team Free Will. However, Sam and Dean went into hiding after retiring, Castiel returned to heaven, and no one had heard from them in years.

 

The whole thing was classic Sam, though; trying to save his brother, even in the afterlife. However, one of the more surprising parts of this was the fact that no one had told her he was dead; something like that would’ve been big news to hunters everywhere, yet she had heard nothing. Then again, she just started, and didn’t have a lot of “hunting buddies”.

 

Of course, there was the other issue: was it even right to destroy Sam Winchester? He didn’t “kill anyone”, per se, since they were demons. It was clear Sam was going insane, but could they help him, or should they put him down? Megan had no clue what to do.

 

“We should call Garth.” said Bobby, and Megan nodded in agreement.

 

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed, and he picked up after a couple of rings.

 

“Garth, hey. Did you know Sam Winchester died?”

 

She heard nothing for a bit, then she finally got a response.

 

“No. What happened?”

 

“That’s the thing. We were hoping you knew. Sam’s a ghost, Garth.”

 

Another awkward pause. Megan knew Garth and Sam had been good friends, and she knew this had to be hard for him, but time was of the essence.

 

“We need to figure out what’s keeping him here. If we don’t, he’ll kill us.”

 

Suddenly, the line cut off, and the car pulled itself over and parked. Shocked, Megan looked in the back seat to see Sam Winchester sitting next to Ben, who was anxiously trying to open the car door, while Sam just watched him with amusement.

 

“I thought we’d already discussed this.” sighed Sam.

 

Everyone just stared at him. No point in arguing the contrary, as it seemed he’d heard the whole conversation anyways.

 

“Anyways, I didn’t show up here to argue. I realized you need coordinates to the bunker. Give me a pen and paper.”

 

Bobby handed him his notepad and pen, and Sam took it without a second thought. He started writing, and Megan couldn’t believe how weird this was. He looked like a normal person, minus the electronics interference and the unbelievably cold aura resonating off of him. He seemed less angry than before, as if he was calming down, maybe even getting better now that they were helping him. Maybe they could save him.

 

Once Sam was finished, he handed the notepad back to Bobby, pursed his lips, nodded, and disappeared. Ben exhaled loudly, as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time. Bobby seemed to loosen up and sink back into his chair as well, and Megan couldn’t blame them. The random visits from Sam were shocking, to say the least.

 

Megan looked at her phone, which was functioning again, to see that Garth was calling her.

 

“Why’d you hang up!? Are you ok?”

 

“We’re fine. We just got an unexpected visit from Sam.”

 

“Look, as long as Sam is attached to you guys, you’re in real danger. Come back to my house, and I’ll help you figure this out.”

 

She thought over his suggestion. They probably could find a way to end Sam. He was dangerous, and she knew Ben and Bobby would want nothing more than to kill him here and now. But Sam wasn’t evil, just like Bobby wasn’t evil. He didn’t deserve to be killed, er, ended, when all he was trying to do was save his brother.

 

“I can call up some other hunters, and we can fix this, Meg. Please.”

 

“Garth, we have a lead. Sam just gave us coordinates to a ‘bunker’ of some sorts. We’re gonna go and check it out, but I was hoping you could tell us where these coordinates are?”

 

“Meg, you have no clue what’s there! You can’t just-”

 

Bobby handed her his notepad, unaware of what Garth was saying.

 

“Okay, I’ve got the coordinates. You ready?”

 

A couple seconds passed, and she could feel Garth crumbling to her will.

 

“Yeah, alright.”

 

She read them off, and after a minute, Garth spoke up.

 

“It’s some place in the middle of nowhere. Lebanon, Kansas. I’ll send you directions. Meg, you really shouldn’t go-”

 

She hung up, not wanting to listen to him plead with her. She’d already made up her mind.

 

“Alright, the coordinates are Lebanon, Kansas. Guess we’re going on a road trip.”

 

Megan started up the car, Pillar taking its turn on the radio, and they were off, leaving the small city of Pittsburgh in their dust.

 

\------

_Many hunters connect through a database, usually held together by an experienced or retired hunter, when they need more information on what they're hunting._

\------

 

Five years ago, she had been so excited to get her license and start driving. Her mom even gave her the old G6, which she loved. Now Megan was sick of driving. Kansas wasn’t exactly across the street from Pittsburgh. They’d been driving for about a week and a half now, and, thankfully, they were finally starting to get close. The trip hadn’t been bad so far; Bobby switched between his normal self and being aggressive on and off, and Ben had enjoyed being his witty and snarky self. They slept in the car, Megan took turns driving with Bobby, and the only place they stopped was at gas stations. Thankfully, the group was starting to get used to each other.

 

They had crossed the state boundary into Kansas a couple hours ago and, surprisingly, it was absolutely beautiful, even at night. Kansas was a collection of rolling, green hills, and, since they were in the middle of nowhere, there was barely no light pollution, so the stars were clearly visible. Plus, there were no clouds. Megan had loved to star gaze with her mom; it was one of their shared hobbies. She smiled as she remember excitedly looking through their telescope at the moon and the stars, her mother listing off facts about them as they sat on their back porch. Her thought bubble burst when Bobby spoke up after hours of silence.

 

“We never told him what we are.” he said, turning to Megan.

 

Reviewing the week’s events, she realized he was right. They had never gotten around to telling Ben what they were. She was worried what his reaction would be; he may be okay with her being part angel, but Bobby…

 

“He has a hatred for anything and everything supernatural. I think we should hold off on telling him until the time’s right.” she responded, keeping her eyes on the road.

 

“But that means we can’t use our powers around him.”

 

“I know, okay? But we can’t afford to have any other problems right now. We need to gain his trust.”

 

“Right, and the best way to do that is by keeping secrets from him.”

 

“Bobby, he might want to kill you.”

 

“So what? I don’t really understand why we brought him with us, anyways. He’s more of a hassle than he’s worth.”

 

Megan’s grip tightened on the wheel, and her knuckles went white. She was getting real tired of Bobby having these mood swings for no reason.

 

“Bobby, he’s our case. Our job is to help people. It isn’t about killing Sam; it’s about helping Ben.”

 

“He’s an ambitious human, a stuck-up womanizer, driven by revenge to avenge a demon, who’s helping a ghost! Does nothing about that seem wrong to you!?” he snarled at her.

 

Megan looked over, an angry retort on the tip of her tongue, but it melted away to fear when she looked at Bobby. His eyes looked different than before; angrier, hungrier. His canines extended into fangs, and his nails were turning into claws.

 

“B-bobby… calm down…” she said, slowing the car to a stop and pulling to the side of the dirt road.

 

He was breathing heavily, and just stared at her. Bobby then turned and got out of the car, and Megan did as well. They were in the middle of nowhere, driving down a seemingly never-ending highway that stretched through the plains of the Middle East.

 

Megan came around the front of the car, onto Bobby’s side, and stood only a foot away from him. Bobby was still panting, still looking infuriated, trying to regain control of himself.

 

“Bobby, look, I know-”

 

“Shut up.” he growled quietly, and he shoved her to the ground.

 

He kneeled beside her, and Megan, first thinking he was attacking her, realized that someone else was here. The car door opened and Ben stepped out, and Megan sighed and stood up.

 

“Damn it, Bobby, we’re not hiding from Ben.”

 

“No, wait-” protested Bobby quietly, only to cut himself off.

 

Ben slammed the door shut and stood face to face with them, an annoyed look on his face.

 

“What the hell? Why did we stop?”

 

Megan opened her mouth, trying to think of an explanation, and turned around to Bobby, who was also standing. He was still in werewolf form, and somehow, even with those angry eyes, he looked… confused.

 

Suddenly, Ben’s fist was in her face, and everything went dark.

 

\-------------

_Experienced lycanthropes can control their transformations and urges to feed on people. However, they can lose control if their emotions are too strong._

\-------------

 

Bobby knew something wasn’t right. He recognized that faint smell of sulfur anywhere. As Megan collapsed to the ground, Ben’s eyes turned pitch black. He was being possessed by a demon. Glad for a reason to tear him apart, Bobby lunged at him, and the demon deftly side-stepped away from him. He landed on all fours in front of the G6, and he snapped around to see Ben run to the trunk of the car and open it. Bobby leaped over the car, and as he collided with Ben he felt a knife slide into his left shoulder. It was silver. The duo collapsed to the ground, but Ben shoved Bobby off, leaving him heaving in pain on the ground, knife still inside of him.

 

“Filthy beast, thinking you can beat a demon? You make me laugh. Have fun in Purgatory.” the demon chuckled, closing the truck.

 

Ben made sure to step around Bobby as he got into the driver’s side of the car. Revving the engine, he drove away, leaving him to die on the ground.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there for in the soothing grass, but he knew he had to get up, knew he had to go get Megan. Leaning on his right arm, he sat up, groaning as the knife moved in his shoulder, more blood staining the ground. Werewolves heal faster than people, but this knife was like poison; he had to pull it out.

 

Wrapping his claws around the knife’s handle, Bobby took a deep breath, counted down from three, and pulled as hard as he could. He roared into the night with pain, and he threw the knife as far as he could, disgust and fear directed at the object. After pulling off his blood stained shirt as quickly as he could manage, Bobby wrapped it around the wound tightly. Securing his makeshift bandage into place, he shakily rose to his feet. Driven by rage, he started sprinting down the road, following the scent of Megan’s car. He wasn’t going to let this bastard get away.

 

His thoughts raced as he ran. Bobby knew Ben was nothing but trouble the moment he saw him. Now it was his fault Megan was in danger. Having lived a sheltered life because he was a lycanthrope, Megan was the first and only friend he’d ever had, and he wasn’t ready to let Ben throw that away. He was going to kill him. He’d eat his heart out, and he was going to enjoy it.

 

\--------------

_Demons have super strength, the ability to see other supernatural beings that are normally invisible to humans, and, when using their powers, usually leave behind traces of sulfur, the amount depending on how powerful the demon._

_\-------------_

 

Megan woke up to a blistering headache, her favorite feeling in the morning. Groaning, her eyes fluttered open. She was tied with leather straps to a chair; she couldn’t move at all, not even a little bit. She remembered talking with Bobby, then suddenly being attacked by Ben, and that’s all she could remember. She looked around the dark room, and her heartbeat started to quicken. On the walls hung all sorts of torture weapons. Panicking, she struggled against her bounds, even kicked her feet against the concrete floor, but even with her angelic super-strength, she couldn’t break free.

 

A door opened, letting in a blast of light. She closed her eyes against its bright rays, and didn’t open them again until she heard the squeak of the metal door close. Opening her eyes, Megan saw Ben standing in front of her, a devilish grin on his face.

 

“B-Ben… what the hell are you doing?” she asked, teeth gritted in anger.

 

“Slow on the uptake, aren’t we?” he responded, and he moved over to the wall, examining the horrible tools loosely hung there, browsing them as casually as someone looking through a bookshelf.

 

He took his time, sweeping his eyes over each and every device as if it were a piece of art, and finally Ben turned back to her. He walked up to her, and pulled over a small grey cart. On top of it rested some sort of head device and multiple needles and small prodding tools. Her eyes widened in horror as she tried to envision how it worked.

 

“I’m a demon, you idiot. Keane’s my real name.”

 

Megan swallowed hard, her breathing fast and intense. She was going to be tortured, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle it, or what information she even held that could be of any relevance to this demon.

 

“Just tell me what you want. Let’s make this easy on both of us.”

 

“Aw, you’re no fun. Hunters are usually fighters. They usually aren’t… weak.”

 

She bit her tongue, and swallowed her pride. There was no way in hell she was going to let herself be tortured. Megan knew she wouldn’t be able to endure it. She was only twenty one; she couldn’t be tortured.

 

“What do you want.” she asked again, losing her patience.

 

“I need the name of the next prophet. All angels automatically know, so don’t try to tell me you don’t know.”

 

Megan’s eyebrows scrunched together, and she tried to think. She didn’t even know what a prophet was, let alone the name of them. How did she get in this mess? Her first case by herself, and she finds Sam Winchester and is kidnapped by a demon. All in the job description, she guessed. She wanted adventure, excitement? Well here it is. She couldn’t help but think back to what her mother used to tell her: ‘Megan, there’s nothing worse than an adventure.’

 

“Well, come on. I don’t have all day.” snapped Keane.

 

“Well, you see, I’m not 100% angel; I’m only half. I’m a Nephilim. So, I honestly don’t know.”

 

Keane stared at her intensely for a minute, the silence only broken by Megan’s raspy breathing. Finally, he shook his head.

 

“No, I’m afraid that won’t do. I need to make sure you don’t know. It may be stored in your subconscious. Or you may also be lying. Either way, I’ll get an answer, and I’ll get to have a little fun.” Keane said, that smile reappearing on his face.

 

His hand dusted over the head-piece, and Megan started struggling again. It had to be screwed into place.

 

“No, I-I promise I don’t know! Please, don’t, I’m begging you!” she cried, terrified.

 

“Sorry, sweetheart, but this is going to be just too much fun.” he said, giddily, as if he was a child about to open up a Christmas present.

 

She closed her eyes, and began praying to Castiel. Please, father… I’ve never asked you of much, but I need you now. Please, this is too much, I can’t do this…

 

The sound of the door opening sounded, and she opened her eyes to see a person’s figure standing in the doorway. The light was so bright compared to this torture room that she could only see the person’s outline, but he was an average height, taller than Ben but shorter than Bobby. He lifted his right hand, and he closed it into a fist. Keane grabbed his throat and began to choke, collapsing onto his knees. The dark smoke of a demon started flooding out of Ben’s mouth, and once the whole demon was out, it combusted into flames and was gone. Ben, no longer possessed by Keane, fell to the floor, unconscious.

 

Megan, amazed, still couldn’t see who was at the door.

 

“Cas-castiel?” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

 

The person came closer, and now she could see who it was. To her surprise, it wasn’t Castiel. In fact, she had no clue who this person was. He had dark green eyes, with dirty blonde hair that stopped right above his eyebrows. He had a concerned look on his face, and he bent down and started untying her. Now that he was closer, she saw that he was wearing a sleeveless blue shirt with swimming shorts and flip-flops. This definitely wasn’t Castiel.

 

“Sorry, I’m no Castiel. Name’s Jesse. You okay, lady?” he spoke, with a thick Australian accent.

 

“F-fine. Sorry if I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about being tortured.” she snapped defensively, trying to suck back in her tears and regain her breathe.

 

“Oi, I’m the one rescuing you, remember?” he responded, a little annoyed at her snap.

 

He finished untying her, and held out his hand to help her up. Megan pushed it aside and stood up, stretching her arms and legs. She wiped the tears off her face, and exhaled deeply.

 

“Thanks. Mind helping me and my friend get out of here?” she asked, pointing at Ben on the floor.

 

“Not like I got anything else better to do.” he replied, and he hefted up Ben’s left side while Megan took his right.

 

They dragged him out of the room and into a hallway. In the hallway, people were passed out everywhere, and the duo had to maneuver around and over them. The hallway had no windows, and the whole building was mono toned with concrete floors; she felt like she was in prison.

 

“So, you took these people out?”

 

“Yes. I almost ended up like you, on the verge of being poked and prodded into submission, but I wasn’t having any of that noise. So, I broke out, and looked for survivors. You’re lucky I found you in time.”

 

Just by looking at him, Megan could sense it. There was something dark, something demonic about Jesse. She didn’t exactly trust him yet, but she didn’t have anything against him, either; she knew there were good and bad monsters. Besides, she could also sense he wasn’t fully demon, either. So, in a way, they were alike.

 

“You’re part demon.” she said, looking Jesse in the eyes.

 

He didn’t return the look, but kept moving forward.

 

“Yes. I’m half demon, half human. You’re not fully human, either. Part… angel, I believe?”

 

Megan just nodded, looking away from him, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. They walked the rest of the way in silence, Jesse breaking the silence every once in a while to tell her where to go. Finally, they made it outside. It was daytime, and they walked out of a white storage building. She shielded her eyes against the sun’s powerful rays; the building had little to no lighting on the inside, and the dramatic change caused her eyes to water a bit. Keane had truly taken them to the middle of nowhere; there was no sign of anything around them for miles, only more rolling hills and a single long highway stretched out east and west. Thankfully, her car was parked out front. Keane must’ve stolen it.

 

“That’s my car. Here, put Ben down. He might have the keys on him.”

 

They gently set Ben onto the black concrete, and she checked the pockets of his leather jacket. He found the keys to her G6 in one of the pockets, and pointed it at her car. The car blinked its headlights and responded with a happy chirp, as if it was happy to see her.

 

“Oh, by the way, you didn’t happen to find a lanky guy in any of those rooms, did you?” she asked, unable to keep a tinge of fear and worry out of her voice.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t. There were a lot of people in there crazy as meat axes, but no one was particularly lengthy.”

 

Megan nodded, slightly relieved. Bobby might still be alive.

 

Jesse helped her load Ben into the back seat of the car, and as they shut the door, she turned to him.

 

“It’s obvious you aren’t from around here, what with that accent and all. If you want, you can come with me. I could take you to an airport or something.”

 

“No, don’t want ya going out of your way. The most I could ask for is a lift outta here.” he said, gesturing to the building.

 

She couldn’t help snickering at the way he talked, but didn’t say anything.

 

“Alright, shotgun’s yours.”

 

\---------------------------------

_Someone who is half angel, half human is called a nephilim, while someone who is half demon, half human is called a cambion._

_\---------------------------------_

 


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 5

Ben

 

Why was Ben the butt of everyone's plans? First he was "chosen" by Sam to save Dean, which encompassed killing his friends, who turned out to be demons. Then he was beaten by some college kids, which hurt. Now he was apparently possessed by a demon and nearly ended up torturing Megan. Ben wasn't sure what it meant to be a hunter, but if this was it, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out.

 

Megan had driven him and beach boy to the closest town and rented them a room at some crappy motel. Ben was just glad to get some rest that didn't include a headache upon regaining consciousness. Also, he made sure not to mention this, but he was tired of sleeping in the backseat of Meg’s car. It just wasn’t a bed. He made sure to claim a bed as soon as they got there, and he reclined on it with a sigh, tv remote in his right hand, and lazily surfed through the channels. On his left was Jesse's bed, but thankfully there was a night table separating the two beds. Megan claimed the couch, which was fine with him. Ben wasn't in the mood, not that Megan was either; she’d probably beat him up.

 

What he really wanted to know was what the hell happened. The last thing he remembered, Megan pulled over the car and was arguing with someone, probably Bobby. They were worse than an old married couple. Then some black smoke filled the car, and he was out. She briefly explained that he was possessed by a demon, and that he nearly tortured her, but Jesse came to the rescue. Which made sense, sort of. What didn't make sense was the fact that she didn't explain what happened to Bobby, or how or why Flipper saved them in the first place, let alone who he was besides a pretty face and swim shorts.

 

It was about 7 pm, and Jesse was taking a shower while Megan went out to get some food. Jesse wanted to go with her, but she told him that "Ben needs a babysitter". He would've argued, but at this point it appeared that way.

 

Jesse stepped out of the shower, wearing just a towel, and Ben groaned.

 

"Jesse, I'm not gay. Put some clothes on."

 

"Relax, mate, I'm getting'em." He responded, and he walked over to his bed.

 

He rummaged through a small plastic bag. Earlier today, he went shopping for some clothes, apparently. Ben had slept through most of the day, so this was according to Meg.

 

"So, I was thinking. We ought to get you an anti-possession tattoo. Comes in handy against demons."

 

Ben sat up, and he stretched his arms. He hung his legs over the side of the bed, and let out a yawn.

 

"Yeah, sure, just hurry up changing. I could use a nice hot shower myself."

 

"You're in for some disappointment then. Shower's cold."

 

As Jesse closed the bathroom door, Ben pouted to himself. This is what he got for running away from college. His mom was probably sick with worry; maybe he should call her. He looked at the night table and saw Jesse's brand new track phone sitting there. Megan had thrown his beloved iPhone away because of some paranoid reason he'd neglected to listen to. She had told him not to call his mom, saying it could endanger her, but Ben had to tell her that he was alright, at the very least.

 

He picked up the phone and dialed. After a few rings, she answered.

 

"Hello? Who is this?"

 

"Mom, it's me." He whispered, not wanting to alert Jesse.

 

"Ben!? Oh thank god! I thought something had happened to you. Ben, where are you? Why didn't you tell me about the murders?"

 

"Mom, I'm fine. Everything's okay. The murder's shook me up a bit, is all. I'm just taking some time off. I'm gonna be gone for a while. I love you." He said quickly, hearing Jesse start to open the door.

 

Ben hung up the phone and put it back where it had been, just in time so that Jesse didn't notice. He walked out, wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans with tennis shoes.

 

"Right then. Get in there, and make it quick; the sooner you get the tattoo, safer you'll be." He said, gesturing to the bathroom.

 

Ben rolled his eyes and walked past him into the bathroom. Damn Australians with their damned accents.

 

\---------------------

_Demons can possess any body, alive or dead. However, if the person has an anti-possession tattoo, the demon will not be able to possess said person. The demon can possess the person if the tattoo is removed, however._

_\---------------------_

 

Megan was too glad to get away from all those guys. She needed some female company, despite how unwilling she was to admit it to herself. Unfortunately, she didn't have any friends she could contact, so being alone would have to do.

 

She walked out of a Sheetz, carrying a couple bag-fulls of necessities for the night. She loaded them into her car, and slid into the driver's side. Megan stared at the passenger seat, and she couldn't help but get a little upset. Bobby should've been in that seat, should be here, with her. They'd grown really close, and it was weird now that he was gone.

 

Of course, she hadn't flopped over and given up, either. Megan called Garth earlier, asking if he knew anything, but sadly he had no clue. Bobby knew her phone number, so it was strange that he hadn't called by now. She wanted to go look for him, but it really wasn't the best move at the moment. On top of the Sam case, demons were on their tail, and they needed to get somewhere safe. Hopefully, Sam wasn't lying and the bunker would be able to keep out anything and everything supernatural.

 

Sighing, Megan revved the engine and drove back to the motel. When she opened the door, Ben was shirtless, looking at himself in the mirror, while Jesse was in his boxers, watching some kid's movie. She set the bags down on a nearby table, and they both turned simultaneously towards her.

 

"Honestly, guys? Why can't either of you be normal for once?" She complained, closing the door and locking it.

 

"Normal? You're kidding me, right? You ask for normal when you're a hunter?" Jeered Ben, who was absent-mindedly searching for a shirt.

 

"Oh, darling, thank me later, by the way. I got him an anti-possession tattoo. Shouldn't have any more little incidents. I hope you have one as well?"

 

"Don't insult me. Of course I got one." She replied, collapsing onto the couch.

 

"Well, Ben here didn't have one, so I figured I ought to ask." He said, throwing his blankets on top of him.

 

Ben turned off the tv, then the lights.

 

"Yeah, well, I'm going to bed. Any of you write on my face and I'll go karate kid on your asses." He mumbled, Megan only able to hear the sound of him shifting in bed.

 

Tired as well, Megan was quickly out.

 

\------------------

_Most supernatural beings can be kept out of a room if all entrances into the room, such as doors and windows, have a line of salt behind them. Most supernatural beings cannot cross salt lines._

_\------------------_

 

Bobby stepped out of the warehouse, rubbing his face with exhaustion. He'd been running for a while, how long exactly he wasn’t sure, hours probably, and when he finally arrived, there was no sign of Megan. There were, however, many dead people with a lot of sulfur scattered, making the place smell like a rotten egg factory, so he hoped that she escaped somehow. Ben's body wasn't there either, so that also meant he was still alive.

 

His transformation wore off when he discovered no one was here. Now he just felt sore, hungry, tired, and ragged. His clothes were dirty, the soles of his shoes peeling off. He looked homeless.

 

Now that Bobby was back to his senses, he felt guilty about everything that'd happened, to an extent. He shouldn't have lost control or gotten upset with Megan. However, he still had his suspicions about Ben. The demon possession may not've been his fault, but Sam chose him for a reason, and Bobby doubted it was a good one.

 

Plus, he just didn't trust him. Ben was the stereotype of a classic hunter; if it's supernatural, kill it. He was driven by rage and revenge. Bobby started to see sense in not telling him what he was; Ben could turn on them at any time. Plus, he had a powerful ghost watching over him. The boy was dangerous, and Bobby didn't like how this first case was turning out, considering how everything had went wrong.

 

Bobby reached into his jean pockets, searching for his phone, only to discover a rip in his pants and no phone. Feeling frustrated, he started walking down the highway, hopefully towards a town.

 

He knew Megan wouldn’t be so close to the warehouse; she would've at least went to the next town over. Bobby needed to find a phone, and fast. Unfortunately, he had no money, so he was going to have to try being a charity case.

 

After a few hours of walking, he reached a small town. It was more of a pit stop town; the population couldn’t have exceeded a hundred, and the highway was the centerpiece of the town. Small shops and restaurants crowded around it, desperately hoping some stranger who drove by would stop by. Deciding there was only one place people would be stupid enough to give him a phone call, he walked into a nearby bar, and scanned the room for friendly faces. It was an average looking hang out, with wooden floors, low country music droning in the background, and people scattered around the bar and tables, sleepily downing some beer as light filtered in through the windows. Surprised, Bobby could smell other lycanthropes in the room. This warranted a bit of investigating, and he was just the guy to do it. He walked up to a girl lycanthrope. She wore jeans, boots and a brown leather jacket, with pin-straight red hair. He gently tapped her on the shoulder, and she swiveled the chair away from the bar to face him. She wore a disinterested look, and after looking him over quickly, started filing her long, pointed, red nails that seemed to resemble claws more than nails.

 

“What?” she breathed, focused on her nails.

 

“Why are there so… many… here?”

 

“This is a Hämnas Eva meeting. Guessing you’re new.”

 

“If you’re new, watch your step. Lycanthropes aren’t the only monsters here. Stick by me for now; wouldn’t want anyone to carve out those little puppy eyes of yours.”

 

Bobby sat down next to her, suddenly unsure of what he was getting himself into. She flashed him a grin, showing off her pearly-white fangs. He gave her a quick side grin, but didn’t say anything more. They sat together for a bit, then a man stepped into the middle of the bar and everyone fell quiet. He was bursting with muscles, and was dressed like a hardcore biker with a stony cold expression. He had a plain white undershirt with a black jacket, dark blue jeans and black boots. His hair was messy, sticking up and flattened in random spots, but was short, not stretching below his ears. He raised a calloused hand, and it glowed red with heat. Bobby flinched in his chair a little, suddenly fearing this monster’s power.

 

“My name is Baneman Varg. Welcome to Hämnas Eva.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Many monsters organize among their own species, however organization across different species is very rare._

_\---------------------------_

 

What is that ringing? Megan thought to herself. She rolled over on the bed, but then realized it was a couch and promptly rolled off of it. She landed on the carpet with a soft thud, and let out a sigh of annoyance as she laid there on her stomach. Megan slowly hefted herself off the carpet, which was surprisingly comfy, and looked up at the coffee table to see her phone was throwing a fit. She slapped her hand on it and looked at the caller ID. She didn't recognize the number, but picked up anyways.

 

"Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?" She mumbled into her phone.

 

"Megan? It's me, Bobby."

 

Megan jolted upright the minute she heard his voice.

 

"Bobby!? Oh, thank god. We thought you were dead. I mean, I..."

 

"Relax, everything's fine. Tell me where you are; I got a ride."

 

"If you followed us, we're at the next town over in a Motel 8. Can't miss it. Are you sure you don't want me to come get you?" She asked, but Bobby hung up, surprisingly.

 

She put her phone down and looked over at the two beds. Ben was entangled in his sheets and blankets as if he'd tossed and turned all night. Jesse looked tense, as if he could snap awake at any moment. It made her sad, seeing them this way, but she wasn't sure why.

 

Shaking away the thought, Megan cupped her hands around her mouth.

 

"Up and at'em, guys. I found Bobby."

 

Ben snuggled into his blankets more while Jesse sat up slowly, leaning on his arms.

 

"You... Found him? When? How long you been awake?" asked Jesse, still half asleep.

 

"Well, actually, he found us. He's driving over here, and we are going to be off the minute he gets here, so get up and get dressed."

 

Jesse stood up and walked over to her, stretching his back like a cat.

 

"Now, who said I was going with you?" He said, looking at her skeptically.

 

"Well, I just assumed... But, you don't have to, obviously." She replied, blushing a bit, crossing her arms.

 

"I'm just messin' with ya. I got nothing better to do, and you guys seem like an interesting lot. Besides, I miss America a bit. Stars and Stripes and such... I oughta get back into the swing of things."

 

Megan just watched him walk into the bathroom, holding his back as he did so, and shut the door behind him. The guy was a little weird... But not bad.

 

Ben still hadn't gotten up. Sighing, she walked over to his bed.

 

"Ben, don't make me pour water on you. Because I will." She said, standing poised next to his bed.

 

He grumbled a bit, then untangled himself reluctantly from his blankets. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, looking like he'd just woken up from a coma.

 

"Low blow, man. Low. Blow."

 

Megan perked her eyebrow and smiled a bit. He was a lot different in the morning than during the day. His usually well groomed hair was messy and stood up all over the place, like Bobby's. He was grumpier, not as sarcastic or smart mouthed. This side of Ben was pretty amusing.

 

Jesse walked out of the bathroom, wearing shorts, a plaid shirt with a vest, and flip-flops. Megan would've burst out laughing, but couldn't help feeling bad for how horrible his fashion sense was.

 

"Beach boy, what the hell are you wearing?" Scoffed Ben.

 

Jesse's eyebrows tightened, and he let out a huff and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

"I think I look great." He responded defiantly, like a child.

 

Megan just smiled and rolled her eyes.

 

"Ben, hurry up already. I haven't gotten dressed yet."

 

He rose to his feet with a groan, and he marched slowly to the bathroom. A knock sounded at the door, and Megan practically ran to get it. What was on the other side, however, made her smile drop. Bobby was there, with a girl on his arm. He looked different; he wore a shifty look, with a more powerful presence, and he was wearing a trucker hat for some reason. The girl had a sly look on her face, and she was leaning on Bobby, arm around his waist. She looked like a biker crossed with a high school prom queen, which was weird.

 

"B-Bobby! Hey... Uhm..." Megan stuttered.

 

"Name's Jen. Boyfriend delivery service. Though if you were dating, guess you aren't anymore." She said, leaning even more into Bobby.

 

He blushed, but didn't say anything. Megan just stared, amazed. Bobby slept with this girl? She didn't know he had it in him.

 

"Well, thanks for watching him." She responded slowly and cautiously, giving Bobby a questioning look.

 

Jen stood on her toes, gave him a kiss, mouthed 'Call me', and walked away. Bobby still stood in the doorway, hands fidgeting nervously in his pockets.

 

"Hey, Meg." He whispered.

 

Megan wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, letting out a sigh of relief. Bobby was stiff at first, but he melted into her and hugged her back.

 

"Hey, Bobby." She whispered back.

 

After a bit, they let go, and she gestured for him to come in. Jesse was sitting at the couch, pretending he hadn't been listening, but Megan could tell that he was. Bobby took her invitation, setting down a little duffle bag of things on the floor.

 

Jesse got up from the couch and walked up to them, and Bobby flashed her a look, and Megan have him the _it's okay_ look. He nodded subtly, and turned back to him.

 

"Hello. My name's Jesse. I've joined onto this little bandwagon, for the time being, seeing as I've got nowhere else to go."

 

Bobby nodded, and held his hand out. They shook hands, and she could sense him relaxing a bit. He seemed to like Jesse a lot more than Ben.

 

"I'm Bobby." He responded, giving him a small smile.

 

Just then, Ben walked out of the bathroom, looking like his usual spiffed-up self.

 

"Darn. Thought you were dead, Bobby." Said Ben, a coy look on his face.

 

Bobby let out a small huff of frustration, but didn't say anything. Megan gave Bobby a pat on the back and shot Ben a poisonous look. He raised his hands in defense, and Megan just rolled her eyes. Jesse clicked his tongue, trying to diffuse the situation.

 

"Well, now that we're all here, I say we should be off." He said, walking over to the door.

 

Megan was about to follow him when she realized her mistake.

 

"Damn it, I still haven't gotten dressed. You guys go wait outside; I'll be there in a bit."

 

\--------------------------

 

 

Ben thought this couldn’t get any worse. Well, it just did. They were all forced to stand outside and wait. Megan was the bridge between everyone, the leader, the peacekeeper; without her, even for a bit, things would start falling apart.

 

He was sitting on the hood of Meg's G6, kicking his feet out of boredom. Bobby and Jesse stood in front of him, deep in conversation. Bobby looked uncomfortable, but Jesse was his usual... Strange... Yet weirdly charming... Self.

 

"So, you slept with that girl just to get a ride? Or was that a bonus?"

 

Bobby's face turned red, and he looked away, fiddling with his pockets. He didn't answer Jesse's question.

 

"Yeah, how'd you meet her anyways?" Interrupted Ben, not wanting to be ignored.

 

They both turned to him, acknowledging his existence. Jesse didn't seem to mind, but Bobby's mood soured just by looking at him. Why was Bobby so against him?

 

"I went to a bar, asked for a phone call. I met her, and we talked." He replied curtly.

 

"Well, you must not've asked her." Said Jesse, looking at Bobby curiously.

 

"If you'd asked, Megan would've gotten a phone call. But you decided to call this morning. You should've arrived at the bar, what, mid-day, night? Still plenty of time to drive over here; not terribly late. So, what really happened?"

 

Bobby avoided eye contact, and now Ben was suspicious too. Why didn't he call right away? It doesn't sound like Bobby at all to drop everything to sleep with some random girl, especially since Ben was convinced he was in love with Megan anyways. Jesse opened his mouth, probably to make another point, when Megan stepped out of the motel, wearing some nerdy t-shirt, jeans, black high tops, and that trench coat she always wore. It gave her a professional edge, but at the same time made her seem childish because it was too big on her. Despite the way she chose to dress, the look on her face was all business, with a smirk hiding at the corners of her lips, waiting to strike out with some snarky comment. One eyebrow was perked as she walked over to the awkward trio, and she tilted her head and examined the scene.

 

"What are you guys doing? No more gossiping; get in the car already." She said, opening the driver's door and sliding in.

 

The three all proclaimed shotgun simultaneously, and Megan sighed.

 

"Bobby has shotgun. Now, get in; we're wasting daylight."

 

Bobby flashed Jesse and Ben a victory grin, and Jesse chuckled to himself. Ben and Jesse exchanged a mutual glance, and got into the backseat of the car. There was something up with Bobby, but what was a mystery. For now, anyways.

 

"Alright, hopefully this time we won't be interrupted by crazed demons. We can discuss, plan, all that good stuff when we reach the bunker. It's about time we saw whether or not Sam is sending us to a trap or giving us a gift."

 

Megan, as always, revved the engine loudly, even though it wasn't really an impressive car, and sped off towards Lebanon, Kansas.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Ch.6

 

Pulling up to the place, everyone's eyes were glued to the windshield of the car, mouths agape. The so-called "bunker" wasn't really all that much of a bunker; it looked more like a castle. It was huge, and beautifully decorated in some old 50's style. It was a charming old thing, but even from afar the place looked secure. It was built into the side of a hill in the middle of nowhere, most of it underground, completely hidden to the rest of the world. How no one noticed such a gigantic, awesome thing was beyond Megan's grasp. They parked in front of the building, everyone slowly stepping out as if they'd entered into a foreign country.

 

"Well, I can tell you right now there's no way we're getting in their without a key. I can feel the warding and magic from 'ere." Said Jesse, holding a hand above his eyes to block out the sun's rays.

 

It was a fairly normal weathered day, except for the excessive amount of sun. Megan happened to like the sun, and the only one who fidgeted a bit was Ben. Being from Pittsburgh, she guessed he wasn't the sunny type.

 

"Feel the warding? Warding what? People?"

 

Megan and Bobby exchanged quick, panicked glances. They still hadn't had the opportunity to tell him, and having Jesse tell him right before they got in there didn't seem like a great idea.

 

"There's no warding for people, obviously-"

 

"There's demon and angel warding. Experienced hunters can sense them." Megan interrupted quickly, trying to give Jesse a subtle look to shut up.

 

He caught the message, raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and turned back to the building.

 

"Wow, you guys gotta teach me some of this stuff." Said Ben.

 

Megan chuckled nervously, and noticed something was off. She let out a big breath, and realized she could see it.

 

"Sam's here." She said, looking around.

 

Sure enough, Sam appeared in front of Ben. Ben didn't flinch this time, however, but instead his face had a steeled resolve in it.

 

"What do you want, Casper?" He snapped, giving Sam a dirty look.

 

"The key's in your pocket. I slipped it in there a while back. I was hoping I wouldn't have to waste energy to visit you again and tell you, but you're oblivious." He replied, giving him back the same amount of sass he received.

 

Ben started patting his pockets, and he pulled a small box out of his leather jacket pocket. The other three stepped closer to get a look, but Sam stood between them and Ben.

 

"I'm giving the bunker to Ben. You can only go in if he's okay with it.” said Sam defensively.

 

"Sam, back off. I can fight my own battles, and this isn't a battle. They're helping me. Go back to the spirit world or whatever." Said Ben, still examining the small box.

 

Megan was surprised at how authoritative and brave Ben had gotten with Sam. She was also surprised at how Sam was handling it. All he did was look at him, smile a little, and disappear, although Ben wasn't even paying attention to him anymore. Now the box was open, and he held in his left hand a key.

 

"Let me see that box." Said Jesse, and Ben handed it to him.

 

After looking it over a bit, Jesse looked at the others.

 

"This is a safe place. This bunker belonged to the Men of Letters." Said Jesse, handing the box back to Ben.

 

"The Aquarian Star is their symbol. Took me a bit to remember. Haven't heard of’em in ages."

 

"Who are the Men of Letters?" Asked Bobby.

 

"A group of people who had extensive knowledge on everything supernatural. They know everything there is to know, from spells and creatures to ancient languages and every arcane art imaginable. This, right here, is the supernatural motherlode."

 

Megan turned to Ben, and gestured towards the steel hatch door.

 

"Well, enough standing around, let's go inside already!"

 

Ben straightened up, and led the way up the sidewalk to the bunker, Megan, Bobby and Jesse tailing behind him. Megan’s skin itched; the warding was bugging her, but since she was only half angel it couldn’t keep her away. The building itself let off a magical aura, and seemed to have a mind of its own. It felt like the bunker was deciding whether or not it liked her. Jesse had an amused look on his face, and Bobby looked confused but interested. She guessed they were all feeling the same. Ben, however, looked confident, and if nothing else, happy. He looked like he was in his element.

 

When they made it to the door, Ben flicked out the key and inserted it with a click. The hatch, brandished with an Aquarian Star, turned slowly, creaked open, and Ben stepped inside first. Megan followed, and the minute she did she let out a sigh of relief. The warding was gone, but she could feel her supernatural strength was gone while inside as well. The bunker accepted them, but powers were off limits. Jesse, Bobby, and her exchanged a look of relief before grinning at the scene before them.

 

They walked onto a balcony overlooking a library that took up all the walls below them. A staircase spiraled down to the floor below them. Books lined the walls with rectangular wooden tables taking the spotlight with old fashioned lamps sitting on the center of each one. Dusty chandeliers lit the room, and Megan was thankful she didn’t have a lot of allergies. Jesse shoved ahead of them, and sat on the staircase railing. He slid down it, hollering the whole way down. Megan laughed and started running down the stairs, Bobby following. Ben had already wandered off, but they saw him return from some hallway that branched off to another part of the bunker.

 

"Man, this place has everything! It has a garage, kitchen, war room, and who knows what else. I'm going to keep looking around." He said, and retreated down another hallway.

 

The whole group decided that spending the day exploring this place would be fun, and besides, in here they were safe, so why not enjoy it?

 

\-----------------------------

_The Men of Letters used to be a world power, but fell in the 60's after being destroyed by a demon knight named Abaddon._

_\-----------------------------_

 

Holding an armful of books, Ben used his knee to skillfully open the door to another bedroom. He'd checked out a couple already; all the bedrooms were in the same hallway. The others picked out the first room they stepped into, but Ben got the feeling he'd be here for a while, so he might as well take the time to pick out a room he liked.

 

Walking in, he set his books down at a desk. Seeing the desk's drawer slightly ajar, he checked it and saw what appeared to be Asian adult books from the 20's. Snickering, he closed the drawer and examined the room. It was slightly decorated; an axe hung above the bed, the night table had a picture on it, and the walls were a calming shade of dark blue. Curious, Ben kicked off his shoes and jumped on the bed. He nearly tripped on the indent in it. Looking down at his socks, he saw it was a memory foam bed, and that someone's imprint was on it. Ignoring the bed, he took the axe off it's perch. It looked makeshift and used, like something out of Skyrim. It had dried blood on it as well. He put it back carefully; dried blood meant none of his business.

 

Flopping onto his butt on the bed's edge, Ben picked up the picture frame on the night table. It was a picture of a brown, short haired young boy with brilliant green eyes and what he assumed was his mother, who had the same eyes with blonde hair. He stared at the picture for a while, not sure what feeling he was getting from it, and, getting a headache, put the picture back. Giving it one last glance, Ben decided then that this would be his room.

 

Walking out, he saw Jesse, Megan and Bobby were busy moving into their own rooms. He walked into Megan's new room to see her sitting cross-legged on her bed in front of a laptop. Her room was carpeted, and she had set up electronics and personal affects all over the room, from band posters to clothes scattered messily. Her trench coat hung off the edge of her bed, and Ben wasn't used to seeing her with it off. She seemed like a teenager with it off, losing the important look it gave her. He also couldn't help but give her a quick once over; Megan was pretty hot, in his opinion. But he didn't like getting caught up in relationships, so he decided against looping her into that.

 

"What's up, Ben?" She said, looking back down at her computer.

 

"I was wondering, maybe you could teach me about hunting and fighting and stuff?" He asked, leaning in the doorway out of habit, but quickly corrected himself.

 

"Bobby's going to teach you." She responded nonchalantly.

 

Ben's face soured, and he turned around and scanned the hallway. Not seeing anyone, he closed the door and sat next to Megan on the bed, who still didn't look up.

 

"Look, Bobby hates me for some reason, and... Why can't you teach me? Or maybe even Jesse? I mean anything is better than him." He whispered, not knowing how thick the walls were.

 

"Well, you both have to grow up and learn to get along. So you can let out your frustrations on each other through training. Just don't kill each other."

 

Ben looked at her computer screen, and let out a sigh of frustration. She was playing a video game.

 

"Are you kidding me? Video games?"

 

"Got a problem, get out." Megan responded, typing furiously on her keyboard.

 

Sensing he wouldn't be able to get through to her, he got up and walked out. Shutting the door behind him, he turned around and nearly ran into Bobby. He let out a small breathe of shock, and didn't really relax with the glare he was getting.

 

"Out of the way." He muttered, and he shoved past Ben into Megan's room.

 

Rolling his eyes, he made his way to Jesse's room. Arriving at the door, he tried to open it but found it locked. The rattling of chains could be heard on the other side, and multiple clicks. Finally, the door opened, and Jesse was on the other side, fiddling with the locks he'd put on the door.

 

"Locks? Really?" Said Ben.

 

"I like my privacy." He responded, and let Ben into his room.

 

The room didn't show any sign that anyone lived here, now or ever. Jesse jumped onto the bed, lying on his stomach, hands propping up his head. Ben closed the door and sat at the desk on the other side of the small room.

 

"So, what's up, Ben?" Asked Jesse, staring at him with curiosity.

 

"Do you know why Bobby doesn't like me?" He asked, not wanting to beat around the bush.

 

Jesse pursed his lips, and looked like he was thinking. Staring at the ceiling, he had the weird look on his face for a few moments before shaking his head.

 

"No, I don't, but I got some questions for you. What's your opinion on anything otherworldly?"

 

Ben stared at the floor, gathering his thoughts. This world was made for humans, and supernatural beings are what screwed up his life in the first place. From what he'd gathered, hunters killed anything and everything supernatural, and he agreed with that policy. Something about the supernatural sparked a hatred in him, something that angered him, and ever since he discovered they existed, he felt the overwhelming need to eradicate them. It was a gut feeling, and it felt like the right thing. He would rather be justified than be merciful.

 

"Supernatural things aren't called supernatural for no reason... They aren't meant to exist. They're evil, and they need to be destroyed. All they do is bring harm to people, and screw up people's lives, like mine. And that's wrong. We shouldn't have to live in fear, like prey forced to hunt their predators to survive. This seems like a really bad business, and we've only just gotten started. I just... I want it to be over. I want them all dead, gone, just to go away." He said, never looking Jesse in the eyes.

 

After sharing a long silence, Jesse broke the ice.

 

"It's getting late. You should get some shut eye." He said, his voice somehow sounding different.

 

Ben looked at Jesse, but he wasn't able to read his expression. Feeling tired, he rose from the desk and walked over to the door.

 

"Well, night, beach boy."

 

\----------------------------------

 

The trio sat in the war room, staring at each other. It was late at night, around two in the morning. Megan was at the head of the table, with Bobby and Jesse sitting on either side of her. Bobby let out a sigh, and began to talk.

 

"Well, have we given up on killing Sam?" Said Bobby, looked tired.

 

"I feel like we'd be barking up the wrong tree if we did that. It would be better if we chased down Dean." Responded Jesse.

 

"But Sam said he was in Hell." Said Megan, and everyone grew uncomfortable.

 

Were they willing to go so far as to go to Hell? To save someone that was dead? What if they got stuck there? And, Hell was punishment for people who had done serious wrong in their lives, and Dean had been sent there. Did he deserve saving?

 

"No, we can't go to Hell. No one's going to Hell." Said Bobby firmly.

 

"Don't be so sure. I'm half demon; I wouldn't mind going, since I'm going to end up there anyways." Replied Jesse.

 

"Don't talk like that. You aren't going to Hell, Jesse." Megan snapped, annoyed at how easily he was willing to march into Hell.

 

"Speaking of Hell, demons have been tracking Ben and us ever since we took on his case. You think someone is sending them after us?" asked Bobby.

 

"Demons were watching Ben before we arrived, that's for sure. However, Keane’s attack was about me. Keane said he was looking for some information that only angels know of. But I was only half angel. So he was going to literally drill into my head to get it out of me." Shuddered Megan, not happy to think back to her close encounter with worse-than-death.

 

"Yes, I know that technique. While it works with full angels, I believe it would've only succeeded in killing you. Anyways, what did he want to know?" Pushed Bobby.

 

"He wanted to know who the next prophet was, but I don't even know what a prophet is." She sighed.

 

"Well, fear not. We happen to be standing in the world's leading database on the supernatural. I could look into it later." Jesse chipped in.

 

"Next on the list... Bobby, you're going to train Ben to be a hunter, or at least teach him how to defend himself."

 

Bobby didn't look her in the eyes, but didn't protest either. He knew she wouldn't budge. Jesse just leaned back in his chair and started messing with his hair. After a couple moments of silence, Megan cleared her throat and continued.

 

"I've been doing some thinking, and I did some digging on the computer. I think I found a demon-y looking case." she said, turning her computer towards the two boys.

 

"Multiple people found brutally tortured to death...Victims appear to be cult murders?" Bobby said the words out loud, unaware he was speaking as he was reading.

 

"Ah, I see why. Devil's traps were found, with normal hunter's gear. These weren't just murders; something killed hunters." said Jesse, holdings his face with his hands and staring at the computer with interest.

 

"And get this: unexplained traces of sulfur found all over the scene. Police think it was some sort of sacrifice, but this is obviously demons at work."

 

"Let's go get them, then. If these demons are brave enough to go after hunters, they need to be put down." said Bobby.

 

"Actually, I was thinking we could capture one. I was exploring the place and I found a dungeon. Check out these hand cuffs I found."

 

Megan set the hand cuffs on the table, and they had strange engravings on them that resembled devil's traps. Jesse's eyes showed a slight tint of fear and recognition before brushing it away and putting back his usual laid back look.

 

"Smart girl. Put those on any demon, and they'll be helpless. Someone put a powerful spell on those cuffs." remarked Jesse.

 

"I figured we could capture one and have it tell us what's up, you know?" chirped Megan, looking proud of her plan.

 

"That's a good idea. We need to know what's going on downstairs, and how to get there." Said Jesse.

 

Megan frowned. There he goes again. There was no way- well, there was no way she'd let any of them go. They'd need to find out a way to summon Dean; there was no way any of them were going to Hell. She could feel the same opinion coming off of Bobby, but they both remained silent.

 

"Alright. Jesse and I'll check out these demons and bring one back while you train Ben." said Megan, and they all nodded their heads in agreement.

 

"Bobby, when you aren't training, do some research. We need to find out about prophets and ways to rescue souls or take them from Hell."

 

He nodded, and the three got up simultaneously and trudged back to their rooms, exhausted and depressed.

 

\----------------------------

_Demons can be immobilized and made powerless by drawing a Devil’s trap, which is a six sided star, and having the demon face it directly, such as having it on the ceiling above them, or drawn on the floor._

_\----------------------------_

 

Ben held the .22 in hand, pointing it towards the target. He inhaled, squeezed the trigger, and exhaled. The dull boom of the gun bounced off the walls of the firing range, and a hole appeared on the wall to the right of the target. Sighing, he took off the noise canceling headphones and set the gun down, turning to Bobby.

 

"I told you, I'm just no good at guns." Complained Ben.

 

It had been a couple days since Meg and Jesse left to handle a demon case. Bobby had been working him to the bone, and when he wasn't he had his nose stuck in a book. He secretly watched what he read and took it once he was finished. Ben had learned a good amount just through reading, and the bunker was full of books to read.

 

He had been able to pick up most of what Bobby taught him pretty easily; hand to hand combat, learning about different monsters and their weaknesses, and learning about how to use different types of weapons. But they only thing Ben hadn't been able to master was a gun. Every time he heard the sound of the gun going off, he flinched. He couldn't help it, and it frustrated him.

 

"Well, practice can only make you better. And complaining won't. So keep shooting." He said, wearing a disinterested look and reading glasses while he eyeballed a book intensely.

 

"You're doing it fine, you know. You're just afraid of the gun. Stop flinching and you'll hit the bulls-eye every time."

 

Ben was frustrated, and restating the obvious wasn't helping. He'd been shooting for a while now, and nothing was changing.

 

"Bobby, I need to take a break. I'll let you finish War and Peace in silence." He muttered as he tried to shove past him.

 

Bobby stood squarely in his way, and didn't let him pass, still not looking up from his book.

 

"We aren't done yet. Go shoot the gun."

 

He was getting real tired of Bobby's bullshit. Constantly hating him, being mean to him for no reason. Ben was exhausted, and he wanted a break, and he was going to get it.

 

"Well, I'm done, so get out of my way."

 

Bobby didn't respond, but he didn't move either. Bobby looked away from his book, picked up the gun, and shoved it to Ben's chest.

 

"Ben, take this." he said, looking him hard in the eyes.

 

Ben had an inexplicable moment of fear, and he started getting a headache. He stood there, frozen in shock, lost in a memory. Suddenly, the pain of a hand slapping him across the face snapped him fully into the memory. He saw the man with the green eyes staring at him.

 

"Ben, now's not the time. You see anyone, shoot. You understand?"

 

Ben nodded, and he turned towards the target, aimed and fired. It was a direct hit. A pat on the back snapped him back to reality to see Bobby giving him a small smile.

 

"There you go. Told you that you had it in you. Stay here and practice some more; I'll be back for you in ten."

 

\--------------------------------

_Becoming a hunter is extremely dangerous, and requires a lot of training. Many hunters have backgrounds in hunting, police, or other high risk or action filled jobs or hobbies._

_\--------------------------------_

 

Bobby walked into his room, feeling hungry. He had his own mini refrigerator in his room where he stored various animal hearts. Besides the fact that he had to hide his lycanthropy from Ben, Megan didn't like watching him eat. It was an unspoken rule that he doesn't eat with the rest of them.

 

Bobby sat on his bed, finishing a chicken heart, and couldn't help flashing back to his time with Jen. He remembered the taste... That wonderful taste... Feeling hungry, he got another heart. And another. And another. Before he knew what'd happened, he went through his whole supply. He breathed heavily, still feeling hungry.

 

Gritting his teeth, Bobby rose shakily from the bed and walked into his bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he stared at himself. His thin, innocent face was disgraced by the blood that covered his mouth, lips, and jaws. The trucker hat covered his head, with only little wisps of his hair peeking out. His eyes looked differently, with the middle resembling skits more than pupils. His fangs has grown out, and his teeth were aching. When Bobby looked in the mirror, it reminded him what he was: a monster. A look of sadness crossing his features, he turned on the sink and splashed water in his face. He looked up, the blood gone, but the look still there. Frustrated, he returned to his room and reached for his phone.

 

"Hey, Bobby. How are you?" Greeted Jen's silky voice.

 

"Jen... I'm hungry... So hungry..." He panted into the phone, baring his fangs.

 

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go get something to eat." She coaxed him.

 

Bobby stared at the door. Ben was at the shooting range. He could easily sneak up on him, what with those noise canceling head phones. He hated the obnoxious human, and wanted to do nothing more than rip his heart out and gorge himself on it. But if he did, he would lose Megan, and Bobby couldn't let that happen.

 

"There's nothing to eat." He growled after a long moment of silence.

 

"That's a shame. Guess you're going hungry tonight." She teased, and Bobby snarled through the phone.

 

"Calm down, I have some good news. I talked to Baneman Varg, and he's agreed to let you become a full member. But, you have to pass initiation first."

 

\--------------------------

_Werewolves can restrain themselves from eating human hearts; however, it's harder to resist the more they taste it or smell blood._

_\--------------------------_

 

Megan led the way up to the apartment building, wearing a black suit with her trench coat on top. Jesse was behind her, and while it took some arguing, she managed to squeeze him into a suit as well. They had to look the part, unfortunately for Jesse.

 

The apartment building was in Salt Lake City, and it looked decently normal and boring enough. It was four stories high, red bricks, blended in well enough with the rest of the neighborhood. They had parked along the curb, and Jesse protested about their car probably going to be towed, but Megan brushed it aside and walked up the steps with him in tow.

 

Walking onto the scene, after climbing three flights of stairs, the duo entered room 357 and flashed their badges to the officers and stopped cold. There were three male officers here, all possessed by demons. Jesse could sense it as well, and they had a stand-off, staring at each other.

 

"Jesse?" One whispered, and Jesse pulled a jagged knife out of his jacket and was about to throw it at the demon, but Megan's reflexes were faster. She grabbed his wrist, and yanked the knife out of his hand.

 

"Jesse, there's an innocent person in there! Don't kill him!" She shouted, shooting him an angry and somewhat horrified look.

 

Jesse turned to look at her, returning the glare, which shocked her. She'd never really seen him cross before. He was usually laid back; but, then again, they were facing demons.

 

"Excuse me? Meg, that's a demon, and hesitating could let it-!"

 

Megan gasped for air as the wind was knocked out of her. She was thrown against the wall, and was stuck there. Jesse struggled beside her, unable to move as well. The three demons approached them, flashing their black eyes.

 

"Do that." Jesse spit out of his gritted teeth.

 

The door opened and a fourth demon walked in. The demon was wearing a teenage boy, definitely not older than 16, with curly blonde hair, freckles and the look of a child serial killer.

 

"Well, Megan, I knew our trap would attract hunters, but I never thought I'd have the pleasure of meeting you again. I hope you'll be as cooperative as you were last time."

 


	8. Chapter 8

Ch. 7

 

Holding the frame in his hands, Ben stared down at the picture. The boy with the green eyes... is the man he saw in his episode. He was certain of it. The resemblance was striking. Even at such a young age, he had the same jawline, the same look in his eyes. This was what the man used to look like. When he saw him, the man's eyes weren't nearly as bright, his expression hardened, and underneath was so much depression. Ben wasn't sure how he could see it or how he could tell, but it was there.

 

Hearing a knock at his door, he set down the photo and opened the door, knowing Bobby was on the other side.

 

"I'm going out for a while. I'll be back in the morning." Said Bobby.

 

Bobby had become a master of poker faces and holding stone cold stares. In fact, Ben was getting a taste of his talent right now. Even though Bobby had become slightly nicer, the tension was definitely still there. If anything, Bobby was becoming more assertive.

 

Despite Bobby constantly acting like a jerk, Ben had become used to it. It wasn't all that bad after a while, and although it probably wasn't something he should have to get used to, it didn't seem like Bobby was going to budge. To be honest, Bobby's attitude made it easier for him to teach him and easier for Ben to learn. No beating around the bush, no wasting time, all business. He felt like he was back in law school, and Bobby was his professor.

 

"Alright. I'll be here. Might call a few girls." Ben joked, but all he got was an eye roll as Bobby walked away.

 

Closing his door, he snatched a look at the clock as he moved towards his closet. 12 AM. Weird time to leave, unless he was going to get another girlfriend. Opening the closet, he shifted the hanging rack of clothes aside to reveal a stack of books behind them.

 

He looked over the pile of books that he'd stolen from Bobby, and picked the one off the top and began reading. Ben had figured out what he was searching for: a way to summon souls from Hell. They were trying to save Dean. The fact that they'd hidden this from him had gotten him pretty riled up. It proved he wasn't one of them, that they didn't trust him. And plus, hunters were supposed to help good people, not take damned souls from Hell. They should focus on killing Sam, not saving Dean.

 

As he started reading through the book, he quickly noticed this one wasn't like the others. It spoke of Christianity, and myths surrounding it. Ben had made a dangerous move; he stole the book before Bobby had finished it. Ben was a faster reader than Bobby, and he'd run out of things to read.

 

Seeing a certain chapter marked for reading, Ben skipped to it and began his research. The chapter was about the word of God, and how He had a scribe write His word on tablets for His people, the most famous one being the 10 Commandments. However, there were other tablets, and these tablets could only be deciphered by a specially chosen person called a prophet.

 

_Prophets are chosen by God, and have no powers besides being able to decipher words of God. Once one is killed, another will have his or her gift awakened and will become the prophet. A prophet’s powers are awakened when a word of God has been unearthed and God has determined its translation is required. Prophets do not look different from anyone else, but when in the presence of a tablet will have the overwhelming desire to acquire it._

 

Ben continued reading for a while, and once he finished the chapter, he returned the book to its obscure location in his closet. They had been hiding things from him, so he figured a little payback was in order. What worried him most is if they didn’t trust him with the little things, what else were they hiding?

 

Checking his clock again, he realized he’d been reading for forty minutes. Exhausted, Ben turned off the lights and climbed into his bed. The memory foam mark from the last owner was still there, and he positioned himself to line up with it. He felt surprisingly comfortable and safe, as if he was wrapped in someone’s arms. Letting out all of the tension in his muscles with a small sigh through his nose, Ben got the best night’s sleep he’d gotten in years.

 

\--------------------------

_A prophet could be anyone in the world, and once it's their turn in line to receive the power to decipher the word of God they receive the power directly from Heaven in the form of a bolt of lightning._

_\--------------------------_

 

“What… does he mean by that?” choked Jesse, looking at her through the corners of his eyes, unable to turn his head.

 

“Oh, she didn’t tell you how her interrogation went? It went so smoothly; I’ve never had a hunter so willing to share what she knows.” Said Keane.

 

She would’ve said something, but Megan was already struggling just to breathe as Keane and his lackeys had them crushed against the wall. All she could do was watch helplessly. Staring at Keane, and having already met him twice, she finally figured out what he reminded her of: a snake. He had a raspy, breathy voice, and this vessel in particular was slim, with a narrow face and beady eyes. Megan forced herself to remember that in reality there was an innocent sixteen year old boy in there, but it was hard to believe when he kept flashing her those black eyes of his.

 

“She begged me not to torture her! Said she’d tell me anything I wanted to know. Didn’t even have to touch her. While it took the fun out of things, I appreciated her efficiency.” He commented darkly.

 

She didn’t even have to look; Jesse was disappointed in her for being so weak. She was disappointed in herself, really. She’d signed up for all this adventure, wanted to be tough and heroic, but at the end of the day she was no hero, just a reckless girl running around pretending to be one.

 

“Well, I’d love to continue chatting, but I’d really rather skip the song and go straight for the cake.”

 

Keane pulled out an angel blade, her angel blade, and approached her. Megan closed her eyes, and let out a gasp as she felt the blade cut into her right thigh, skillfully cutting her all the way across. This wasn’t what she had imagined; she thought she’d cry, scream, but instead her mouth opened in agony and nothing came out. All she could manage was huge gulps of air as tears streamed down her face.

 

“Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m a bit OCD. Why don’t we make you symmetrical?”

 

Megan wailed silently, feeling Keane slowly cut into her flesh on her left thigh. He went slower this time, enjoying her agony as he tore another straight line to match up with her other leg. The pain in her thighs was indescribable; he not only cut her, but tore into her muscle, leaving a deep, long gash. Looking down, she saw Keane squatting, knife in hand, and she nearly threw up at how much blood there was, slowly sliding down her legs. It was a sickly dark copper, and it gushed out of her, a never ending stream.

 

A white light shined briefly where her cuts were; her angelic grace was showing. The angel blade could cut through that grace and kill her. Right now, death didn’t sound all that bad; Megan was in horrible pain, a burning pain, unable to say anything otherwise.

 

Keane was still eyeing her cuts, his eyes transfixed on the blood forging its own path down over her knees, a grin just a bit too wide on his face. His vessel’s curly blonde hair had bits of dried blood here and there, with his jeans having splotches of it due to blood dripping off his knife, her angel blade, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. Expression unchanged, he raised his right hand to her cut and started tracing it with his finger, feeling his work. She gritted her teeth, as he wasn’t exactly being gentle.

 

Why did she ever want to do this? Who in their right mind would ever actually want to be a hunter? She was naïve, foolish, borderline moronic, even. This would be her end. Tortured to death by a demon. The thought ‘It’ll be over soon, it’ll be over soon’ ran through her head like a scratched disc of hope and relief, and Megan nearly bit her tongue off as Keane started digging into her wound with his whole hand. She could feel his four fingers reach inside of her, feeling inside of her leg, and she had to remind herself to breathe as she looked agonizingly at the ceiling, mouth stretched open as far as it could go, yet still, silence. Megan wanted to scream; anything would’ve been less painful than the nothingness.

 

Feeling her consciousness slipping, a hard slap across her face stopped that from happening. Keane was standing now, holding her face with his hand, his bloody hand that he’d explored her left thigh with.

 

“Don’t fall asleep yet. We’re just getting started.”

\-------------------------------------------

_Demons are human souls who have had their humanity stripped away by brutal torture in Hell. Since the opening of the Gates of Hell during the Winchester Era, many demons gained freedom from Hell and roam the Earth. Demons take joy in torturing others._

_\-------------------------------------------_

 

Their stolen car screeched to a stop outside of another bland apartment building. Bobby was pissed; all the buildings on this street looked the same, and it took multiple attempts and overworked patience from listening to people give the world’s crappiest directions to get here. But, despite their hardship, they finally arrived, and Ben was glad that he could get out of the car and separate himself from Bobby’s aura of anger issues. Megan and Bobby had a system: if they were separated, they called each other every six hours precisely. She didn’t call. Bobby and Ben, knowing something had went wrong, hitched a train to Salt Lake City, and had stolen a car for the rest of the ride.

 

Bobby pulled out his phone, looking something over, and Ben patiently waited on the sidewalk next to him. He was tempted to look over his shoulder, but thought better of it. Bobby was already in a bad mood, and not much was more terrifying than a silent rage.

 

Bobby looked up at him from his phone, confirming with a nod that this was the right place, pulled his gun, and started walking towards the building. Ben trailed behind him, his gun also in hand. They cautiously and slowly went up three flights of stairs, on the lookout from any and all directions for demons. Safely arriving at the door, Bobby put his ear to the door, listened for a bit, then started sniffing the door. Ben stared at him in bewilderment.

 

“Good boy! I got a bone here for ya!” whispered Ben sarcastically, who got a light punch in the gut in response.

 

“There’s demons in there. Four, to be precise. Jesse’s in there with Megan, and Megan’s bleeding.” He said, even more quietly than usual, forcing Ben to strain to hear him, even though they were shoulder to shoulder in front of the door.

 

“Sheesh, you could tell all that just by smelling the door? You hunters aren’t even human, are you?”

 

Even though Bobby was trying to act stoic and business like, he could see the glints of horror in his expression, in his eyes, as he shot him a look before looking back to the door. He saw how hard he was desperately trying to shove down his feelings, his fear. If Megan was bleeding so much that he could smell it…

 

“I’ll kick the door in on the count of three. I’ll take top left and you’ll be back right, in terms of me. Ready?” Bobby whispered, his tight grip on the gun making his knuckles turn white.

 

Ben nodded, and Bobby whispered a count down, and even though Ben couldn’t hear him, he watched Bobby mouth the words, watched his hardened expression that was only soiled by a drop of sweat coming off of his brow.

 

Bobby took a quick step back and round house kicked the door down in one try. He barged in, Ben following in the formation they’d discussed. The four demons, who all had their backs to them, whipped around towards the disturbance, but it was too late. Bobby and Ben aimed and fired, nailing all four demons in their heads. They collapsed to the ground silently, the carpeted floor cushioning their fall. Ben’s eyes raised towards the scene behind them. Jesse and Megan fell as well, except Jesse landed on his feet while Megan was on her hands and knees. Bobby dropped his gun and rushed towards her, and to Ben it suddenly seemed like he was running in slow motion. His vision blurred, and his head started pounding with the echoes of another memory. Before he knew what was happening, Ben was at a different scene.

 

The green-eyed man was rushing to his mother’s side, who’s stab wound was bleeding everywhere. He kneeled down next to her, whispering ‘No’ over and over, shaking his head in disbelief. He lifted her up gently, carrying her like a superhero would, and he turned to him.

 

“Ben, I have to carry your mother. Take the gun. If you see anyone, shoot.” He commanded.

 

Ben just stared at him, at his mother. He was in utter shock. His mind had stopped working, as if in the long chain of electric impulses, one of the links had broken. He wasn’t able to process anything, to move, think, feel; he was just existing, standing there, watching his life crumble in front of his eyes. Suddenly, a sharp pain in his shins snapped him out of his daydream to see Jesse standing in front of him, giving him the coldest, emptiest look he’d ever seen. It looked so strange on him; Jesse was normally a quirky, fun guy, but this was a side of him he’d never known about.

 

“Hey, get your head outta the clouds, and help Bobby carry Megan.” He said, exhaustion and anger taking the usual bounce out of his voice.

 

Ben opened his mouth to say something, but ended up nodding and walked over to Bobby and Megan. She had fainted, and Bobby was trying to figure out a way to gently carry her legs while Ben hooked his arms under her armpits. Deciding to hold her by her ankles, they lifted her off the blood stained carpet, stained in her blood, and they left.

 

As they were leaving, Ben noticed that all the demons had been killed by Jesse, minus one. Keane. Jesse had put him in a trash bag and was dragging him out. He must’ve been muffled, otherwise he would’ve heard his groans of pain as Jesse pulled him roughly down three flights of stairs without a second thought. Loading Megan into their stolen car, Jesse volunteered to stay behind, fabricate the scene, call the police and come up with a story. Bobby let him; his thoughts were focused on getting Megan to a hospital.

 

Ben took the wheel, and sped to the hospital as Bobby stayed by her side in the back seat, desperately trying to apply pressure to her wounds and keep her awake. Through the rearview mirror, though, even Ben could see she wasn’t looking well. Her normally tan skin was almost as pale as Bobby’s, sweat and tears covered her face and shirt, and blood soaked her pants and the ends of her trench coat. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she didn’t scream or cry, but just held her mouth open in a permanent, silent shriek of anguish that broke his heart in two. All she did was hold her mouth open, gasping feebly at the air and howling to emptiness, and all Ben could do was drive.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

A little white bulb. That’s the only thing that told Ben and Bobby that they were helping her, that they were fixing her, that everything was going to be okay. Doctors, professionals, were inside that room with Megan, holding her hand, patching her up, and when they were done, after a little TLC, she’d be right back to normal. They’ll take her back to the bunker, and she’ll complain, tell him over and over that she’s fine, and beg to jump back into the action. But he won’t let her, he’ll make her stay in bed, and he’d bring her breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed. He’ll sit by her bed side with her all day, watch TV with her, play games, anything she wants. Bobby knew all of this was going to happen, because he knew that she will be okay. It’s only her second case; she’s still got so much more to do, so much more to live for.

 

A doctor walked out of the room, taking off his surgical mask and Bobby stopped him before he made it three steps out of the room.

 

“She’s okay, right? When can we take her home?” asked Bobby, staring at the doctor, who was a bit shorter than him and dressed with scrubs, intently in the eyes.

 

Bobby sensed defeat and hopelessness from the man, but put his instincts aside. What mattered now was facts, and the fact is that Megan is fine.

 

“She’s lost a lot of blood, and the injury in her left leg is very serious. We’re doing what we can.”

 

Bobby stood there, and stared at the doctor, who avoided eye contact as he carefully maneuvered around him and turned down another hallway. His gaze shifted to Ben, who’s head was in his hands and his elbows on his knees. He snatched another look at the white light, begged it to stop glowing, begged for this horrible nightmare to be over, but it didn’t change. It just sat there, glowing away, pretending to be some beacon of hope, when really it was what he imagined the color of the flames of Hell to look like. Deciding there was no use in standing there, he returned to his seat next to Ben. He hadn’t shifted from the position in over an hour now. Bobby didn’t blame him; he felt like doing the same.

 

Bobby’s phone rang, and he picked it up, not knowing who was calling.

 

“Bobby, its Jesse. I’ve cleaned up everything with the cops. I’m gonna go pick up Meg’s towed car.”

 

“Do it later, Jesse. Come to the hospital; we need you here.” Bobby breathed into the phone, trying to control his emotions.

 

After a long pause, Jesse spoke again.

 

“No you don’t. Besides, Megan’ll need her car when she gets back into the swing of things. It’ll only take a bit; I’ll be there in a jiffy.” Responded Jesse, trying to lighten the mood, but Bobby felt the same.

 

Thankfully, Jesse hung up without waiting for a response. Bobby didn’t feel like speaking anyways. He didn’t feel like living. He felt so useless, sitting here. He didn’t like trusting Megan’s life with complete strangers. Losing his resolve, he slowly lowered his head into his hands, slinking into the same position Ben was in, and he cried softly into his hands, unable to hold back himself.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

Megan slowly sat up in bed, and stretched her arms towards the ceiling, yawning. She rubbed her eyes open, and examined where she was. The memories of everything that had happened came flooding back to her: she had been tortured by Keane. She had awoken on a hospital bed, but no one was around. She swiveled her head around slowly, looking for someone, anyone, but she didn’t see anyone. Megan was about to get up and start looking when a woman walked in. She was dressed casually, with fair skin, grey eyes and medium black hair. She walked over to the bed, wearing a sad smile, and sat down beside her, hands folded in her lap. Normally, she was paranoid of strangers, but this woman wasn’t dangerous, and Megan wasn’t sure how she knew that.

 

“Hello, Megan. My name’s Brittney.” She greeted her warmly.

 

She fidgeted in the bed a bit. She wasn’t used to people being so friendly and warm. The woman seemed like something out of a movie.

 

“Well, you already know me.” She responded, not making eye contact.

 

“Megan, do you know what’s happening?” she asked.

 

“I’m dying, or dead. I think this is a dream. I wouldn’t be able to walk or move otherwise.” She replied, trying to work out what was happening logically in her mind.

 

“Megan, look at me.” Asked Brittney.

 

She looked up, and stared straight into her eyes. That’s when she knew. Those eyes told the whole story. Those light, grey, calm eyes, like half full clouds.

 

“You’re a reaper.” She whispered, incredulous.

 

Brittney simply nodded, not breaking her gaze into Megan’s eyes.

 

“It’s your time, dear.”

 

Megan looked up at her, fear in her eyes. Now? Now, just when she’d started, this was when she was going to die? Before she’d carried out anything, before she’d even finished her first case, let alone successfully completed a case? It was depressing. Here she was, about to die, and she had managed to accomplish nothing in her life. But, surprisingly, Megan found herself okay with it. There was so much stress in living, and she knew a special spot was reserved for her in Heaven. It would be so much easier just to give in, to go to the light. It was her time, after all. Besides, she knew what happened to people who resisted; they became ghosts, who eventually wind up going insane. Heaven sounded a lot better than that.

 

Of course, there were some things she’d miss. She felt like she was closing a book before she had gotten past the first chapter, as if she’d just started getting into it, and now she’d never know the ending. Megan would also miss her friends, especially Bobby. He’d been so distraught and lonely, and she hoped Ben and Jesse would take care of him. She smiled as she remembered all of the good times she’d shared with Bobby.

 

She’d miss the Fitzgeralds, despite how ridiculous they were. Sure, they were a bit quirky, and a bit too touchy feely, but they were good people, and they had become part of her family, along with Bobby. Megan imagined Garth giving her his long, sad look, and pulling her in for a hug that was just a bit too long, and then, and only then, would he let her go. His wife, Bess, would turn into a well of tears, and she’d blow her nose loudly and cry into Garth’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist. And then, Bobby… he wouldn’t let go of her. He never would be able to, because she was his first friend, his first best friend. He’d try to follow her, come with her, but this is one adventure he’d have to take alone.

 

As she started digging even farther back, her grin widened even more as she remembered growing up with her mother. She remembered her mother reading to her every night when she was little, her favorite book being a kid’s version of the Bible. Megan remembered Christmas, and how her mother had let her balance on her shoulders to reach the top of the tree as she put her papier-mâché angel on top. She remembered all the road trips they took into the country every summer, just because they could. She remembered all of it, and she could feel herself start to tear up as she remembered the last time she’d talked to her mother. She warned Megan, told her that this business was dangerous, that she’d rather her take any other road, but Megan had always been so damned stubborn, hadn’t she? Now, here she was, sitting on a hospital bed next to a reaper, life flashing by her eyes like in the movies.

 

Letting out a shaky breathe, she folded her hands together and lowered her head in prayer.

 

“Castiel, it’s me… I’m coming home.” She whispered, choking on the last word.

 

Turning to the reaper, a bitter sweet look on her face. Megan just nodded at her. Brittney nodded back, and held out her hand.

 

“Come with me.”

 

“Hate to ruin the moment, but business is business. Nothing personal.”

 

Megan looked up at the sound of a gravelly British-accent to see a slightly-balding man in a black suit pull an angel blade out of his pocket and stab Brittney in the chest. She let out a gasp, her eyes flashed with a dull, orange, static light, and she fell over, dead. Shocked, Megan jumped to her feet, but the man simply put his hand to her forehead and everything went dark.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

_Reapers are supernatural creatures that work for Death. After a human has been touched by Death and is dead, a reaper will be sent to lead their soul to its final destination. However, reapers cannot force the souls to come with them; souls who resist crossing into the afterlife become ghosts._

_\--------------------------------------------------------_

 

Jesse, holding the G6’s keys in hand, started walking across the lot, filled with a wide assortment of cars who had been abandoned by careless owners. After paying a fine and convincing the staff that he was Megan’s cousin, they gave him the keys to the car and told him where it was parked.

 

He walked towards it, slowly. He wasn’t really here just to pick up the car; he was stalling. Jesse was afraid to go see her in the hospital. He was afraid he’d go there and find out she was dead.

 

His feelings were all over the place. Megan wasn’t the heroic leader he’d thought and trusted her to be. She was a scam, a half angel playing hunter. In reality, she didn’t have what it took to be a hunter because she was selfish. Really, she was looking for adventure. Well, if Jesse had learned anything in his life, he learned that there was nothing worse than an adventure.

 

Megan had given him all sorts of tall tales about how she became a hunter because she wanted to help people, how she was doing it all for everyone but herself. But, in reality, she said those things because she was trying to convince herself of that. The truth is that she’s self-centered. If she hadn’t had been so vain, if she hadn’t tried to be the big hero and save everyone, she wouldn’t be in the hospital, and Jesse wouldn’t be here, walking slowly towards her car, alone.

 

He arrived at her car sooner than he’d hoped. He stood in front of it, staring down the crimson colored, sad excuse of a car. Pointing the keys at the vehicle, he unlocked it, and the car chirped at him happily, just as happily as it would chirp for Megan, or for anyone else.

 

Walking around to the driver’s side, he saw a man leaning on the door, smoking a cigarette. He was a bit on the short side, with balding black hair, some short scruff shaping the edges of his face, with disinterested, brown eyes and an expensive looking black suit. Jesse didn’t even have to hear him talk to know he was English. He knew the type, and they made him sick.

 

“Hey, get off me car.” Said Jesse, not in the mood for whatever this man had planned.

 

The man shot him a smirk, and he stood up straight, no longer leaning on the car. He tossed the cig to the ground, crushing it under his foot.

 

“Hello, boy. Or, should I say, cambion?” he asked, his voice having a thick British accent with a deep, raspy lining it.

 

“You’re just a crossroads demon. Well, I got no business with your type, so get out of my way, or I’ll send you back to Hell.” Replied Jesse, crossing his arms across his chest.

 

“Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong. You DO have business with me.”

 

They stood each other down, staring each other in the eyes, daring each other to speak. The look on the demon’s face was sickly, but it was intelligent, nonetheless. At least it wasn’t hostile.

 

“Megan. She’s going to die.”

 

Jesse’s face dropped, and his arms unfolded and hung at his sides. Megan is going to die. He made a weak attempt at regaining his posture, not wanting to show weakness to such a lowly demon.

 

“So, what, you want to make a deal? Her life for my soul in ten years? You can stick it where the sun don’t shine, demon, because I won’t do it.” Jesse growled at him.

 

The demon’s smirk grew even larger, his look cockier, and Jesse wanted to do nothing more than wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze the maliciousness out of him. But he didn’t.

 

“No, I got a better deal. As a fellow demon, I’m obligated to give you the demonic discount.” He teased, and Jesse just glared.

 

“I’ll fix her. She’ll walk out of the hospital today, looking brand new. But, in exchange, you have to do me some favors every now and then. Nothing too big.”

 

“Right, cos there’s no side agendas and tricks in this. Look, I’m part demon, and I know full well that you’re all bad news and that none of ya can be trusted.”

 

The demon approached Jesse until they were only inches apart, close enough that he could smell the after shave and the light yet sharp tang of sulfur.

 

“It’s either this or nothing. Do we have a deal?” the demon breathed, giving Jesse a look that made him uncomfortable.

 

Jesse didn’t really understand himself. The girl betrayed him, all of them, yet here he was, seriously considering making a deal with a demon to save her sorry arse. Letting out a sigh, he knew there was no other option.

 

“Deal, but do we gotta-“

 

Large hands grasped both sides of his face as he was pulled into a kiss. Caught with his mouth open, since he was mid-sentence, he felt the demon’s sour yet somehow tasty tongue invade his mouth. He could feel the scruff of his beard tickling and scratching his face. He stood there in shock for a couple seconds, before grabbing the demon’s shoulders and shoving him away. He started wiping his mouth, and shuddered. He had just been kissed by a man, and an older one at that. And the worst part was, he had liked it a bit.

 

“God, at least buy me dinner first.” Snapped Jesse an octave higher than normal, his face as red as a beat.

 

The demon just licked his lips and shot a seductive look his way, while Jesse just stood there, dumbfounded.

 

“Name’s Crowley, by the way. I’ll call you.”

 

And with that, he left Jesse there, stranded in the parking lot.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

_Crossroad demons are demons that can be summoned at crossroads via a ritual that make deals with their summoners, usually in exchange for their soul in ten years._

_\--------------------------------------------------_

 


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 8

What was that annoying beeping sound? It reminded her of an alarm clock, and everyone knew Megan despised alarm clocks. She was a strong believer in getting up naturally, not being forced awake by some hideous noise. Eye still closed, she rolled onto her side and felt for the clock, but instead felt a screen. Why was the TV so close to her bed? Rubbing her crusty, sleep filled eyes, she opened them to see that the screen she felt was in fact not a TV but a heart rate monitor. She watched the little red line spike every second, a bit mesmerized, still very tired, and eventually rolled onto her back. Looking at the ceiling, Megan suddenly jerked upright. She was in a hospital. She was wearing hospital clothes, in a too white hospital room that was giving her a headache. 

Then she remembered why. She looked down at her legs, which were covered by blankets. Slowly, she lifted the blankets off, terrified of what she’d see. Nothing. Her legs were fine. In fact, as Megan ran her hand over her thighs, she could’ve sworn her skin looked smoother than it did before. Those surgeons must’ve done one hell of a job; there isn’t even a mark, she thought to herself. 

She got out of the bed, and stretched her legs. Still felt fine. Relieved, she walked out of the room and into a waiting room. Looking back, Megan realized she wasn’t in any hospital room; she was in intensive care. Turning back to the room, she saw a scene that made her wish she had her phone. Bobby and Ben had fallen asleep, leaning on each other. Grinning, she walked over to her boys and shook them gently.

“Bobby, Ben… c’mon, you can sleep in the car.” She spoke lightly.

Bobby’s eyes fluttered open, and Ben rubbed his eyes viciously before opening them. They both stared at her wearily for a bit before both of them jolted awake simultaneously, eyes wide as they could stretch. 

“What the… How..?” Ben whispered.

Bobby stood up and pulled Megan into a tight hug. He buried his face in her shoulder, and didn’t say a thing. He didn’t have to. Megan simply hugged him back, resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes closed, enjoying the moment. She could feel he was on the verge of tears, of breaking down, but she just gripped him tighter. She felt him calming down as his chest rose and fell more steadily, so she loosened her grip, and they broke off the hug, leaving them both standing apart with sad grins on their faces.

Ben eventually got up and pulled both of them in for a group hug, and they started laughing and joking around, and for the first time in a while, they were happy. Ben busted into rude jokes that only he could get away with saying so soon, and Bobby grew defensive and pouty at his remarks. Megan laughed and combatted him while Bobby stood and watched haughtily, and after sharing a look, they joined forces to tease him a bit too. His face was all red, his expression portraying betrayal, but the ends of his lips curled into a smile, and they all just stood there, laughing. 

\----------------------------------------------------------  
Typically, when someone experiences a near death experience, the person doesn’t remember their out of body experience.  
\----------------------------------------------------------

It took a bit of persuasion, of course, but after letting the doctors give her a check-up, they determined she was fine and called it a day. No use in keeping a healthy patient. They told Megan that she should probably take it easy anyways, just in case, and to keep going for regular check-ups with her family doctor, the usual drone of words that every nurse said with that same neutral expression. Nodding her way through it, they finally made their way out of the building, and she was glad to get some fresh air. Something about hospitals repulsed her; the smell of sickness in the air, the stuffiness, how everything was just a shade too white. It made her want to throw up.

Flipping up the collar of her trench coat, Megan happily strided out of the building, but when she saw him the bounce in her footsteps halted. There was Jesse, arms crossed, an indifferent look on his face, leaning on her car, staring her straight in the eyes. She immediately shifted her gaze away, trying to casually look at anything but his face, but she wasn’t one for subtlety, and a hand on her shoulder told her that she’d given herself away.

“Hey, Meg, you alright?” soothed Bobby’s quiet voice.

“Fine.” She responded curtly, brushing his hand away.

Deciding to settle this now rather than later, Megan forced herself to look into Jesse’s eyes and walked up to him in a stoic and business-like manner.

“Oi, cut the act. You aren’t a good liar; always wearing everything on your trench coat’s sleeve.” 

She relaxed her stance with a sigh and slump of her shoulders. Jesse was right; who was she kidding? Suddenly, Jesse leaned his head close to hers, briefly brushing his lips near her left ear, and pulled her shoulders closer to him. She flinched a bit at his touch, and was surprised by how gentle he was; his voice and words said one thing, but his body language and gestures said another, leaving Megan awfully confused as she listened to his thick accent whisper into her ear,

“I don’t wish to make a scene. We’ll speak of this when we get back to the bunker.”

Jesse pulled away slowly, and held her at an arm’s length, staring deeply into her eyes. He was so close to her; she could’ve reached out and brush his thin, blonde bangs out of his eyes, but decided on nodding shyly. Megan shuffled awkwardly into the driver’s seat, seeing a slightly shocked Ben and a neutral Bobby climb into the backseat as Jesse slid into shotgun. It felt weird, having Jesse in Bobby’s spot, but no one put up an argument the whole way back.

\---------------------------------------------------

Ben was growing real tired of the secrets. What’s the point in them? He knew they were there, the deception so obvious he could tangibly feel it in the air, and it frustrated him. In fact, the secrets had gotten so obvious that the group really didn’t mind giving each other obvious looks in front of him, or seductively grabbing each other and whispering into their ears. Well, the last one had only happened once, but that wasn’t the point. 

The point is, Ben has a leg up. The group had been looking into prophets for some reason, and he stole the book on it. Well, stole’s a harsh word. He borrowed it before Bobby was finished reading it, but the bunker was really just an old library, so there’s no reason why its facilities, including the books, shouldn’t be at his disposal. No one had said anything against it thus far. So, to be fair, Ben had done nothing wrong, but it really wasn’t the right thing, either. It was giving the group what they deserved, in a sense. He knew it was childish, but he wanted to know what was going on, and if that was ever going to happen, Ben was going to need some leverage, and this seemed like the perfect thing. 

Anyways, the whole ride back, Ben tried to hint that he was upset. He acted a little moody, pouty at times, and didn’t really take any direction. Unfortunately, no one noticed. Bobby was caught up on Megan, tending to her every little need, while Megan was caught up in multiple things, half of them probably being her own damaged psyche, and then Jesse was always in his own mood-swingy, quirky little world. So, naturally, no one paid him any heed. Which was fine, really. Ben knew he was being a little selfish, but he felt like it was an important point to bring up, so he felt laying down a little prerequisite beforehand would help strengthen his argument somehow. Or, maybe eventually they’d notice and they could get the conversation out of the way sooner rather than later. 

Despite his desire to talk about all the betrayal and inner conflict going on, he decided not to push the subject for now. Megan had been tortured after all, and they’d nearly lost her. Although Ben didn’t know her too well, a life is still a life, and, without her, he probably wouldn’t have his. He felt horrible about the whole thing, to be honest with himself, but Ben wasn’t the overly emotional type. He liked sticking to logic, and shoving his feelings aside, because the only thing they ever accomplished was tripping him up. He just wanted to lead a fun and successful life, but at this rate, it was starting to become more and more obvious that he probably wouldn’t live long enough to fulfill that dream. 

His original plan had been to talk about it when they got back to the bunker, but that plan ended up not working out. As soon as they stepped through the door, they all stood in a circle as if they were about to have a show down. Bobby looked confused, Megan wasn't even looking, and Jesse was annoyed, his shoulders stiff and an unwavering look of defiance on his face. Ben just watched the events unfold, deciding that, once again, his side of the story was irrelevant.

"So, Megan, are you gonna tell them, or should I?" Sneered Jesse, shooting her an icy glare.

Ben bit his lower lip and shoved down a laugh. When Jesse got mad, this being the first time, his accent doubled in thickness, and he had a hard time taking the skinny blonde seriously. 

Megan remained silent, and he let out a huff, the accent shining through even on his breathe, and he continued his rant.

"Fine, guess I'll tell'em. Megan's no leader. When she was first captured, she was going to give us up. She would've told them anything they wanted to know so long as they let her go free! Thank god she didn't know anything, but imagine if she had. We could all be dead, or worse."

"I trusted you, Megan. I really, truly did. Well, I was a fool to do so. I thought I was putting my faith in a hunter, but it turns out you're just a weak little girl."

Ben could feel his anger growing. Bobby wasn't defending her, and Megan wasn't defending herself. If looks could kill, Bobby would be dead; Ben was silently willing him to help her, but he just looked at the ground, hands folded, seemingly almost disinterested. Megan was trying to keep herself together; she always chewed her lower lip when she was trying to keep something in, and she fiddled with any accessories she had on. But she never broke eye contact; she was strong. Despite her strength, Ben knew she needed his help.

"Alright, hold up a second. You're mad at her for being captured and almost being tortured? None of that was her fault! She was scared. Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same."

Jesse, his look turning from annoyed to angered, approached him, but Ben didn't back down. Sure, Jesse was taller, but Ben was bulkier; the whole time he and Megan had been gone, Ben had been training, and he'd be damned if some little beach boy was going to walk in here and put down his friend.

"I would never have done the same. And you're right I'm mad. She's supposed to be strong, lead us. She's a hunter!" He yelled.

"No, she's human!" Ben yelled back, both of them snarling in each other's faces.

Jesse glared at him, and he swore that Jesse could see into his soul in that moment with those dark, penetrating eyes of his. After a few seconds passed, Jesse stepped back, ending their stand-off.

"I'm done discussing this. The point of me telling you this is I'm leaving. I'm gonna go get my things."

The trio stood still for a whole ten minutes. Not a word was spoken as they watched Jesse get his small duffel bag of belongings, his pause right before he ascended the staircase, but they all let out a breathe as the door slammed shut. Megan, face red and tear-filled, walked too quickly to her room, while Bobby took off his hat and ran his hand through his thin hair. Ben rubbed his face slowly; what the hell was his problem?

“I’m going to comfort Megan.” Bobby announced wearily, seemingly to no one, and he trudged down the same hallway Megan had fled down. 

Ben found himself stranded in the library. He’d never noticed it before, as he was usually occupied, but the feeling of loneliness overtook him. This place was so big, and even though Jesse had been gone for only moments, he could feel the walls stretching themselves out further, no longer having to accommodate an annoying Australian. 

His logical mind overcome with conflicting emotions, Ben locked himself in his room and landed on his bed with a huff. He needed to vent, but knew it’d get him nowhere, and that he needed to deal with this. On one hand, Ben hated Jesse. What he’d said was completely uncalled for. On the other, he missed him, which was stupid, because he was nothing but a drag. Sighing, he felt bad for his selfish behavior on the way back to the bunker. He’d planned on tearing them a new one, but Ben couldn’t do it now. Deciding his friends deserved some good news, he knocked on Megan’s door tentatively.

After a pause, Bobby opened the door slightly, blocking his view of her room.

“What.”

“I’ve got some important info. Let me in, please.”

Stolen book in hand, Bobby eventually let him into the room, and he immediately felt uncomfortable. Ben had never seen Megan this vulnerable. Her tear-stained face, plus her trench coat off, made her look like she was 13 at the oldest. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, probably put there by Bobby, and there was a little box of tissues next to her. Megan hid her face in her hands, and he listened to her poor, shaky sniffles and choked sobs. Sitting up, she cleaned up hastily and put on a brave face, staring Ben right in the eye with her puffy red ones.

“W-what do you got?”

“I found this book about Christian myths, and it talks about prophets. Here, see for yourself.”

Handing her the book, she snatched it out of his hands quickly, almost nervously, and she perused the parts he highlighted with interest. Ben watched Bobby out of the side of his eye guiltily, and he could feel Bobby’s questioning and piercing gaze wondering why he had his book. Megan abruptly snapped the book shut.

“Bobby, you should check for freak thunderstorms. You’ll need to do more research on the words of god, because demon obviously seem interested in translating one. The angel and demon tablets caught my eye… You might want to look into those.”

Her quiet mumbling depressed the boys, but they nodded in agreement. Ben took the book back, only to have it forcefully taken by Bobby, and Ben exited the room, leaving the two be.

 

“So, we’ve agreed then? The only plausible plan is to save Dean Winchester?”

Megan nodded solemnly in agreement, not making eye contact.

“You’ll have to figure out a way to summon him. Manual extraction is pretty out of the question.”

“You mean we’ll have to figure out a way to summon him.” 

Her grip on her blanket tightened, and she snuggled herself further into it. Memories of Keane’s torture came back quite vividly, and she tried to shake the thoughts from her head, but couldn’t. The pain… was agonizing. She couldn’t endure something like that again, not ever.

“Bobby, Jesse was right. I jumped into this for an adventure, as a naïve FBI drop out wanting an adventure, only to discover that there’s nothing worse than an adventure. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a hunter.”

There was a long pause, which only made her lose more hope. She had hoped Bobby would at least try to talk her out of her negative thinking, but the pause only lengthened, and with every second that slipped by, she felt less and less confident in herself.

“Maybe you should take a break. Think all of this over, if this is really what you want to be. But don’t let Jesse convince you that you can’t be anything, and especially a hunter. Our first case has turned out to be one of the hardest cases we’ll ever get, so don’t take it so hard that we’re stumbling a lot. We’re rookies, and we’ve taken on a lot. You’ve been handling it really well so far, and I think you should think this through.”

Chewing on her lower lip, she nodded slowly. Bobby was right; that was the logical thing to do. After a moment longer of awkward silence, Bobby fake coughed into his fist and tugged on his watch anxiously.

“So I’m going to go fill in Ben. Research on how to summon souls, angel and demon tablets, and prophets. We got our hands full. I’ll get on it. Try to get some sleep.”

As he closed the door lightly behind him, Megan collapsed onto her back and sighed loudly. Should she continue hunting? Or was it really time to go back to her mother and hand back over the trench coat? She looked at it for a while, its wrinkled, used, and dirty self crumpled in a ball on the floor. Maybe she couldn’t live up to her father’s legacy. Not this quickly. She doesn’t have enough experience hunting. 

That fight earlier between Ben and Jesse though… Megan thought he would give their secret away. It was close. Thank God he didn’t; it only would’ve added to her problems. She also felt bad that Ben had to stand up for her. But she couldn’t have defended herself, because she agreed with Jesse. 

Something was off about Jesse, though. She knew he was upset, but he was giving off a lot of conflicting emotions. When he grabbed her earlier… it almost seemed like he was saying good bye. But then he blew up at Ben, only to pause before he left. There was something she was missing.

Giving up and deciding to make herself useful, Megan opened her computer and started to do research on angel and demon tablets. As she suspected, it really wasn’t the hottest topic of discussion on the web, and the majority of the sources she could find probably weren’t credible. Feeling a little cold, she reached for her trench coat and nearly jumped out of her skin to find Sam the friendly ghost standing in her room.

“Jesus Christ, Sam!” 

“Sorry.”

He wasn’t sorry at all.

“Anyways, these demons seem to be causing you quite a bit of trouble. I wasn’t originally planning on telling you this, but it seems as if the threat needs to be dealt with.”

“Wait, you know something and didn’t tell us? And why are you telling me and not Ben?”

“Well, it wasn’t relevant to saving Dean, and I didn’t want you veering off course. But I realize now that you aren’t strong enough in your current condition. Although what I’m suggesting is extreme, I see little to no alternative. And I’m telling you because Ben can be… irrational about saving Dean. You’re the most level headed of the group.”

Was it possible to punch a ghost? Megan really wanted to punch this guy. At the same time, the man was so tall, she was sure she’d be taken down in seconds… Wait, she was the most level headed? Wasn’t that Bobby? Irrelevant, Megan, irrelevant. 

“So what extremity are you suggesting?”

“The angel and demon tablets are hidden. What I’m about to tell you is need-to-know-basis info. If those demons find out where the tablets are, it won’t be good, understand?”

“Out with it already, Sam. You’re wasting… moonlight.”

“They’re in purgatory.”

Megan did a double take at that one. Out of all the places she could think of to hide a tablet, that wasn’t very high on the list. She didn’t even think purgatory was real. How the hell- well, how the purgatory? – were they going to get there? And was it even worth going? What’s the point of even obtaining the tablets?

“O….k. So, what do you suggest we do?”

“The demon tablet can help you save Dean. Anything you want to know about Hell is on there. Also, since you’re part angel, you can wield the powers of the angel tablet, and you may need that kind of power to save Dean. I suggest you get to the tablet before the demons figure it out. When Cas originally hid them there, we didn’t think they’d ever risk it, but Hell’s become bolder and more powerful lately.”

Her father hid the tablets in Purgatory, and now she had to get them back. Seemed ironic. But Megan was still a little precautious about this plan. Sam wanted them to march into purgatory, get two seemingly highly sought and powerful relics hidden from both Heaven and Hell because they are so powerful, all to save Dean Winchester? She agreed he didn’t deserve to be in Hell, but this was pushing it.

“Sam, what you’re suggesting is borderline crazy. Scratch that, it’s insane. Castiel picked a pretty good hiding spot, because I’ve never heard of anyone going there, let alone going and coming back. How would we even get there? Would we come back alive?”

“It’s… pretty dangerous. Purgatory is where the souls of all dead monsters go to hunt and fight each other for eternity. Every creature you could ever imagine is there. But the most dangerous monsters are the Leviathan. They’re weak only to soap,”

Megan gave him a confused look. Soap? Out of all the things to be weak to, soap?

“Yeah, no one understands why, but we aren’t scientists. Anyways, there isn’t a lot of soap in Purgatory, so I suggest stocking up. There are a few ways you can get there. A rogue reaper could smuggle you there, for a price, which is probably the easiest way. But they could also leave you there. You could also send Bobby, but I’m not sure how he’d get out.”

She’d heard of rogue reapers before. Defectors from serving Death, they have the ability to go across spiritual boundaries that not even angels could cross. They make deals with anyone with cash, and they’ll ferry souls – alive or dead – to wherever they wanted to go. They could be a bit troublesome, especially if they started ferrying too many people, so hunters usually kill rogues. Except that rogue reapers are among the best trackers in existence and that they’re nearly impossible to find. So, that would be a struggle. They could also send Bobby, but either way he’d need a reaper, right? Or… wait…

“That’s not an option.”

She stared the ghost stone cold in the eyes. Killing Bobby to send him to purgatory wasn’t happening. Ever. Sam returned her stare with an exasperated look, but only ended up shaking his head and continuing.

“Dean and Cas got there once by using a bone of a righteous mortal washed in the three bloods of fallen, but I’m not sure what happened to ours. You could make one, but there are no leviathan left on earth to kill with to activate it, and the ingredients for making them you won’t be able to find at your local Walmart. The hardest part, however, is getting out. There’s an escape hatch for humans, but that’s it. Nothing else gets in or out, except reapers.”

“It sounds like the only option is the reaper, then.”

“I said I have info, that’s all. What you do with it is up to you.”

Reapers are usually neutral, and serve Death like angels serve God. They can possess people, but otherwise are usually in an invisible free form, guiding people to the afterlife. They are a type of angel, and can be killed with an angel blade.

 

Bobby discovered two things tonight. One, the bunker has a garage. Two, it had an antique motorcycle in it just waiting to be used. He may not have much attachment to physical things, but he could appreciate a good motorcycle when he saw one. So he revved it up and took off, hoping to put as much distance between himself and those hunters as fast as possible. He felt guilty, he really did; he didn’t even have enough time to talk to Ben. But he couldn’t be late, and he really didn’t want to talk to him, anyways.

For once, he felt liberated. Finally, he didn’t have to pretend to be human anymore, to pretend to be something he wasn’t. The cold air flowed around him, making his shirt flap in the wind, the bottoms of his jeans whip against his sneakers. He had to admire the aerodynamics of this bike; despite how old it was, it was excellently designed. 

Bobby could hardly believe how much had changed over the past three weeks. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d asked Megan, extremely embarrassed, if he could come with her. Before, she had been easy to be around; she made him feel good, and he felt happy with her, and cared about her like the little sister he never had. But lately, it was exhausting to be around her. He hadn’t really minded before, but the way she “shamed” his species was offensive. Bobby couldn’t eat at the table; he was forced into his room alone. Whenever he was upset, when he needed his friends more than anything, Megan retracted from him, afraid of him, afraid he’d turn. Piling on Ben made it even worse. Not only could he not be himself around Megan, he had to completely hide who he was from Ben. Megan and Ben were alike; if Megan ever thought Bobby was bad, she’d kill him in a heartbeat, because in her eyes, he was a monster. And Ben’s even worse; if he knew what he was, Ben would kill him, no questions asked.

He pulled the stolen – no, it wasn’t stolen, and he didn’t feel guilty about leaving; it wasn’t his job to stay – bike up to an abandoned bar, more of a roadhouse, stationed in the middle of nowhere. The instructions were clear: come exactly here, at midnight, and don’t be late. Well, it was 11:57, so he was making excellent time.

Taking off the helmet, he fixed his new trucker hat on his head, the one Jen had given him. Bobby tucked a loose strand of hair underneath the hat, and knocked precariously on the door’s entrance, not feeling comfortable just barging in. The door snapped open quickly, Jen’s sly smile giving him a warm welcome. He knew it was her on the other side before she even opened the door; he’d recognize her sweet smell anywhere. 

“Well, you decided to come. The Baneman is waiting for you.”

He nodded at her politely, a small smile on his face. He awkwardly squeezed by her, and she purposely didn’t move, putting them in closer than necessary proximity. He didn’t mind.

The club had little to no lighting, with the only light being a purple UV light that bathed the room with a heavy feeling. Little round tables and benches scattered the area, with a round bar with little red barstools being the center piece. It was all very usual, except maybe the lighting; nothing stood out particularly about the club. Except for the fact that it was filled with monsters.

There was only one bartender, a vamp, and he didn’t mind using his super speed to zip around the bar, serving drinks with ease. Vampires used to give Bobby the creeps; something about those teeth, and the fact that their mouths always seemed to be open, their bright white teeth reflecting your horrified expression. But he’d gotten to know one at the last meeting, and they were actually pretty cool guys. They always seemed to be high, or coming off of one. 

Looking around the room, he spotted werewolves, vampires, djinn, and all sorts of other creatures he didn’t even recognize. It felt a little surreal, like something out of a cheesy Halloween movie, but he knew everyone in this room was a threat. No, they weren’t, actually; these are fellow members of Hamnas Eva. Bobby belonged here.

In a back corner of the room, a group of official people were sitting at a round bench, and they were laughing heartily, downing some hard liquor as if it were water. 

“That’s him, Baneman Varg. Course, you know that; you saw him at the last meeting.”

He nodded. Even from here, he could sense his intense heat, the piping hot blood coursing through his well-muscled body. Jen laced her arm with his, and she guided him over quickly, while he tried to slow her down a bit; he wanted time to prepare himself, but she wasn’t having any of it.

She shoved him onto a single chair across the table from the bench, and everyone’s expressions grew serious as their laughter died down. Bobby looked away from Varg’s piercing gaze; his slit eyes looked like they belonged on a snake. He fiddled with his watch until a fist slammed onto the table, getting his attention.

“Look at me like a real lycanthrope, Bobby. This isn’t a meeting with your principle.”

Begrudgingly, he held eye contact with him. Baneman Varg didn’t look too different from the last time he saw him; same messy hairstyle, as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He had a serious look, laced with a bit of mischief, and he had a plain looking face, if not a little narrow. He wore a white tank top, his black leather jacket draped over part of the table, showing off his thick, toned arms that looked more like logs. After a brief moment of staring at each other, Baneman Varg offered his hand, and Bobby shook it firmly. His hand was extremely calloused, or maybe he should call it scaly, since he’s a dragon. 

“You already know me, and I already know you, but I’m glad we’re meeting face to face.”

Bobby nodded in agreement, and he settled back into his chair. The Baneman seemed okay, so he started to relax, but he shiftily eyed his two friends on either side of him. One looked like a blue group man crossed with a Native American, and he was shaved bald, with a nose ring, and a very serious exterior. His brows furrowed deeply, as if they were stuck that way; even when he laughed, he looked mad. He wore a black suit and tie, contradicting his wild skin and tattoos, and somehow looked professional. The other friend was a werewolf. He had disheveled hair, donning an aviator’s jacket and ripped blue jeans. He had a disinterested, nonchalant look on his face, but the corner of his lips tipped a bit, and when he laughed, you got a full display of his well sharpened canines accompanied with a throaty bark of a laugh.

The Baneman sensed his apprehension, and he let out a puff of grey smoke from his nose. Bobby nearly crawled out of his skin in fear.

“Don’t mind them. The djinn here is Eli, and the wolf is Striker. They’re my right and left hands. But, let’s talk about you, Bobby. Consider this a job interview of sorts. Why do you want to join us?”

“The people I currently live with… humans… discriminate against who I am. I’m tired of it. All my life I’ve been taught to be ashamed of who I am, and I’m sick of it. I’m tired of not being me. I want to be a lycanthrope.”

The Baneman exchanged glances with Striker, and they both seemed to be having a telepathic conversation. After a moment’s pause, Varg looked up at him with a smile.

“Alright, I like you. Pass initiation, and consider yourself in.”

“And what is the initiation?”

Striker stood up from the table, and towered over everyone. He was easily the tallest, and Bobby was pretty tall; thankfully, he was only an inch or two taller than him, making him a little less intimidating. He plucked Bobby’s trucker hat off, and fixed it on top of his head.

“You’re coming with my pack on a hunt tonight.”

Djinn are blue creatures covered with tattoos that use magic to make people hallucinate and put them in a coma like state. They live off of drinking the blood of humans.

Yawning, Megan stretched like a cat arching its back in her bed. She was happy to not have to wake up to some blaring noise; natural sleep’s the healthiest. Sitting up slowly, her blankets still wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl because she wasn’t quite ready to face the coldness of day, she rubbed her eyes slowly, and then allowed herself another yawn. After a bit of procrastination, she walked out of the room towards the kitchen, itching for some breakfast.

The bunker actually had a pretty big kitchen, and it was filled with all sorts of cooking utensils. The floor had diamond shaped tiles, with ridged, tiny grooves separating them. Bronze pots and pans hung from the ceiling above an island, with the left side of the room housing a fridge and microwave, with the right side having a stove and a slow cooker. Surprisingly modern technology, and surprisingly efficient, but she pushed the thought away as she went for her egg batter. Pouring it on a pan, she scrambled them happily with a fork while holding it over the flame. She hummed to herself; she wasn’t a good cook, but this was relaxing, and the smell of eggs always woke her up.

The smell must’ve drifted down the hall, because soon a zombie appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. He moaned, and started walking lazily towards her.

“What’re you making?” 

“Good morning to you, too, Ben. I’m making some scrambled eggs. Want some?”

His eyes slowly scanned her face, and he let out a sigh.

“I usually have something sweet, but… why not?”

He trudged out of the kitchen, still semi hunched over, and collapsed onto a chair in the library, which had become their living room, in a way, since the bunker didn’t have one and it was the most central room. After a few minutes of cooking, she brought out two plates of eggs and a salt shaker. Ben mumbled his thanks and started shoveling the eggs in, not even bothering to use the salt. Megan rolled her eyes and sprinkled salt lightly on her eggs when the door opened upstairs. The duo, startled, looked up at the balcony to see Bobby descending the staircase. He stopped at the bottom, and they had a staring contest of sorts. Bobby looked horrible; his clothes were partially torn and wet, he had some scrapes and bruises, and his eyes… Oh no.

“Hey, Bobby, come eat breakfast with us. Megan’s actually an okay cook.”

“I’m not hungry.” He growled, and Megan rose from the table, blocking his path to his room.

“Bobby, where were you? What happened?”

“Out. Please move out of the way.”

Ben, still oblivious to the tension, decided to chip in, his mouth full of eggs.

“Meg, it’s cool. Bobby goes out every once in a while and does his own thing. Needs his manly alone time, you know?”

The look of disgust Bobby shot Ben was enough to make Megan cringe in fear. Ben’s eyebrows rose in surprise, suddenly realizing he’d crossed a line.

“Manly alone time? More like time away from man! You disgust me!” he shouted, and he shoved Megan aside as he stomped off to his room.

Megan, mouth agape, stumbled to catch her footing, and managed not to fall from his forceful shove. Bobby has had bad transformations before, but he’d never touched her before. Ever.

“Bobby-“

“Don’t.”

The two locked gazes, and Megan melted. The anger and pain that was in his eyes was so powerful it was tearing her heart in half. His lip trembled, and his knuckles were white. And the look in his eyes… it didn’t fade. What had happened to him? Everything was fine last night; how could this have happened?

“Don’t talk to me until you tell… it… everything. I can’t do this anymore. I refuse. I have rights, and I don’t have to be ashamed of who I am!”

Without waiting for a response, he ran out of the room, his breathing hard and harsh. Slowly turning around, Megan sat back down at the table, her eyes far off as she thought about what Bobby had just said to her. Ashamed? What was he talking about?

“Did he just call me an ‘it’?”

Sighing into her palms, Megan looked up at him with the most sarcastic look she owned.

“You’re kidding me, right? That’s what you got from that?”

Ben threw his hands in the air in self-defense, a small smirk on his lips.

“Hey, I’m just trying to diffuse this, but he’s Bobby. He’s a moody guy. I’m used to him throwing little tantrums. That’s been the worst one, though. Anyways, I get the feeling you got something to tell me.”

Ben gave her an expectant look and let her gather her thoughts, his emerald eyes searching hers. 

“Bobby, Jesse, and I… we… aren’t human.”

Ben’s smile remained for a second, then it slowly melted away. His eyes hardened, and his hands clenched the tablecloth. His jaw stiffened, showing its outline so clearly she could’ve traced it with her finger. His face scrunched up in pain, then his whole body tensed, and he looked as if he was trying to keep himself under control.

“What do you mean?” he whispered, not blinking.

“Bobby is a lycanthrope-“

“Bobby’s a werewolf!?”

“He doesn’t like being called that-“

“Oh my god, he’s a werewolf. And what was Jesse, huh? A vampire?”

“N-no, he’s… he’s half demon.”

“Half demon!? You mean half of the hellacious creatures that murdered my friends?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“And what about you? Wait, let me take a guess: you’re a zombie? Or maybe a chupacabra?”

Tears stung at the edges of Megan’s vision. She couldn’t take this.

“I’m half angel, okay!? And you know what, there’s nothing wrong with us! We can’t help who we are! Don’t act like you’re a saint either, Casanova! We’re the only reason you’re alive!”

“Damn it, Megan, you’re monsters! You’re what’s wrong with humanity! None of you should exist on earth! You should be in Heaven, Jesse should be in Hell, and Bobby should be… wherever it is he belongs. Yes, you’re the reason I’m alive, but the supernatural as a whole are the reason many people are dead, and if the supernatural didn’t exist, I’d still be in law school!”

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, Megan reached across the table and gave Ben a swift right hook. He fell out of his chair onto the floor with a thud, and she could hear him groan. She was breathing hard now, and her face was beat red. Adrenaline surged through her, and she had the urge to attack him again.

“You self-centered jerk! The world doesn’t revolve around you, okay? We’re still living, sentient beings! If anyone belongs in Hell, it’s you.”

Megan, still in her pajamas, started stomping upstairs towards the front door of the bunker, a few tears streaking down her face and fists clenched, her arms stiffly and childishly hanging by her side.

“Meg- Megan, where are you going in your pajamas?”

“Anywhere but here!”


	10. Chapter 10

Ch. 9

 

The feeling of his head smacking against a wall was extremely unpleasant. It blurred his vision, and made his knees wobble, but thankfully he caught the silvery glint of the knife heading towards his chest and his right hand grabbed a wrist, holding it back from his heart. Vision clearing, his left hand held another wrist, and he tried to push his attacker off of him, who was trying to impale him with a knife, but his strength was seeping fast.

 

Jesse gritted his teeth and pushed, determined not to die today, not against some low level demon. It would embarrass him in the afterlife as well, and he didn’t really need that on top of all his other problems.

 

The demon was hissing in his face, so much so that his spit landed on him, which was downright uncivilized and disgusting. Losing hope, the feeling of the knife tip sliding into his shoulder caused him to groan, and he tried to push it out, but he just wasn’t strong enough. Thank god the guy had horrible aim; Jesse would hate to imagine the sensation of having his heart plunged by a knife. Especially his by his own knife, for crying out loud!

 

The demon had managed to get the jump on him and disarm him, which really hadn’t made his day any better. Plus, their powers were equal, so they cancelled out, leaving all the fun to a round of fisticuffs. His demonic adversary was one of those low-intelligence brutish types, while Jesse was a lankier fellow, making the match a bit unfair, but no one ever plays fair in Hell and War.

 

Jesse could picture Crowley’s smug face now… ‘That’s all it takes to put down a cambion? I’m disappointed. Expected more out of you, but I guess you’re just a mutt thrown out in a little box on the side of the road after Lucy left.’ A snarl started to crinkle the bridge of his nose, and he clenched his jaws tight in anger. That damn, lowly crossroads demon was NOT going to get the best of him. Invigorated by anger, Jesse head-butted the demon as hard as he could, causing both of them to flinch in pain. The demon let go of the knife, leaving it lodged in his left shoulder, and stepping back, held his head in pain. Jesse looked at his shoulder; it glowed a faint, sickly yellow color, and it crackled with soul energy, his already partially damned soul. Taking a deep breath through his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, he fastened his grip on the handle of the blade and pulled it out with one rough jerk. Jesse let out a yell of pain, that sounded more angry than pain-ridden, and as he looked up, he saw the demon had recovered and was charging him. Jesse leaned against the wall, letting him come towards him, and right before the demon got his hands on him, he jabbed the knife into the demon’s stomach.

 

The two locked eyes, and Jesse watched the last of the damned soul’s energy die, along with the soul of the poor man who was already inside. He watched them both die, watched the electrical crackle of its life force try to repair itself, only for Jesse to twist the knife, pull it out, and watch the now uninhabited body fall to the concrete floor with a thud. Panting hard, Jesse slid down to the floor, and rested against the alleyway’s wall.

 

This was the third demon this week. How much longer would he have to do this?

 

Gulping in air like it would be his last, Jesse tore some of the fabric off the dead man’s shirt and used it to wrap his shoulder wound. Since he was part demon, it wouldn’t take as long to heal as it would for a human. Trying to let himself relax, he looked up to the stars. But all he could see were New York’s skyscrapers blocking them out. Chuckling, he returned his gaze to the ground. Why would he find comfort in stars? They are an angel’s birthmark on the universe, their symbol. Jesse was a demon. Angels are his mortal enemy. And yet, he couldn’t help but wonder if Megan had her own constellation, or maybe just one, tiny star in the sky, to represent her existence. So she wouldn’t be forgotten. When Jesse died, he’d die without a trace. No family, no remembrance of humanity’s corruption…

 

Now he was laughing audibly, and he used his right arm to hoist him to his feet. No point in getting sentimental. He’d let himself have his nostalgia; time to return to reality. Putting the blade in his leather jacket pocket, he started to navigate New York’s back alleys. They all looked nearly identical, with dirty, littered grounds that looked nothing like they did when they were first constructed. The once-fresh pavement was now soiled with trash and dirt. The walls, once a fine, established stacking of bricks, was now decorated with sticky designs from spray cans that were either inappropriate, inspirational, or angry. Many other people wandered these ways as well; from boys in beanies, hands shoved insecurely in their pockets, to old men who slept in the occasional nook or cranny with a tattered old blanket, these alleys were both home and Hell. Jesse’s ears rung with the never ending coughs of the depraved people here, whether it was from sickness, cold, hunger, or pain, everyone seemed to cough, as if trying to hack up their sins. After long, Jesse found himself coughing as well.

 

New York definitely had its upsides, though. Nothing ever seemed completely dark; no matter how many lights you turned off, no matter how many blankets you piled on top of yourself, a sliver of light always managed to get in. He could personally confirm that this city really never slept, and not just because they left their lights on; there was also the constant noise. At first, he had hated it. The constant drone of cars, packed tightly in traffic, trying to cut each other off, even going so far as to cruise the curb just to get an extra meter ahead, or the wail of police cars or sirens. Those upset him the most because he knew that the traffic would probably impede them from getting anywhere. The whole city was an over-stimulation of the senses, and it drove him crazy. But he was starting to become to numb to it; now when he heard the sirens, he didn’t feel as bad, or bad at all, really.

 

Reaching his destination, a dead end alley that looked like any other with an unmarked door at the end, he vigorously knocked on it, feeling impatient and exhausted. After waiting for a moment, Jesse heard locks unclicking on the other side, and the door opened to reveal an equally-exhausted Crowley. He had a buggered look on his face with his hair messy and his pajamas not being his usual expensive taste.

 

“Well, look who’s back so late. Care to come in?”

 

Crowley didn’t wait for an answer, just turned around and headed back inside. Jesse entered behind him, locking the door to their little hideout. It was an abandoned warehouse that Crowley scrapped up the money for, mostly because it was the best he could do. It was their base of operations, but it honestly wasn’t impressive at all. While it had about 10,000 sq. ft., it had no walls; the whole building was one, big room, with one tiny room connected as a bathroom, meaning little to no privacy. It had a few working light bulbs that dangled from the ceiling, with a pull string to turn them on and off. The floor was a pale, dusty grey, and it was perpetually cold. The heating didn’t work, but it wasn’t winter, so that wasn’t a problem… for now. Jesse and Crowley had taken opposite corners of the warehouse, and slept on stained mattresses with one blanket each (Crowley’s had two, and he had two pillows as well, but Jesse’s accommodations weren’t really up for negotiation), and in the back there was an old, wooden desk complete with a 90’s, white, bulky computer that barely worked and got the slowest connection possible with a wheeled, spin-y chair that Jesse adored. The center piece of the room was their demon trap, complete with a chair ready to tie someone down with straps and a whole assortment of torture devices. Jesse wanted to sell them and move into an apartment, but Crowley claimed they needed space for his torturings. Jesse couldn’t believe he was half… that.

 

As he entered the bathroom, Crowley peaked his head in on him.

 

“What’s this? Who broke my toy?”

 

“The demon you sent me after. Boy, was he fun. Nearly killed me.”

 

“That’s a shame. I almost want to write you a get better soon card. Anyways, it’s fine. Your next task won’t be that hard.”

 

Frustration boiling up inside of him, he slammed his right arm on the sink.

 

“Damn it, Crowley, it’s been two weeks. Two weeks of me running around doing your dirty work, killing a bunch of random demons, random people-“

 

“Don’t act all high and mighty on me, boy. Don’t act like you cared about those people. Now you listen to me. Be a good toy, patch yourself up, and get some rest. Keep your mood swings to yourself.”

 

Crowley left him alone in the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Jesse let out a sigh, and looked in the grimy mirror. He looked different than when he left the bunker. His hair had grown out more, tickling his shoulders, and it was greasy and un-kept. Bags piled under his eyes, dragging down his eyelids, and his eyebrows were squeezed together so often they started to get stuck that way. Little nicks and bruises covered his body from his fights, and his chest constantly felt constricted from when he expended his energy to kill lesser demons. Even now as he looked at himself, he shook a little. Shoving the thoughts aside, he removed his shirt, getting a look at his once full chest that now showed too much of his ribs, but focused on his left shoulder. He removed the bandage, slowly and carefully, and cleaned it with some undrinkable water out of the sink and some alcohol, which burned. He found some new wraps in a small medicine cabinet that Crowley had bought for him, and he wrapped his arm again. The pain was still sharp, but it was starting to dull down. Deciding that was the best he could do, he left the bathroom, defeated.

 

Crowley was gone. Jesse didn’t care. He left periodically, and that was fine with him. He could never sleep when Crowley was around, and he was pretty sure Crowley had noticed this as well. Relieved that he was gone, Jesse curled on top of his stiff mattress, covered himself with his blanket, and snuggled his head onto his pillow. He hoped for dreams tonight.

 

Demons with equal powers can cancel each other power’s out. However, if there are three demons against one, the three can combine their powers to overpower the one stronger demon

 

Ben didn’t want to get out of bed. He felt stiff and unrested, as if he hadn’t just slept for twelve hours. But, looking over at the clock on his alarm clock, it was true: he really had slept for twelve hours straight and he still felt horrible. Sitting up, he reached his hands up towards the ceiling, stretching his back and shoulders. He did a couple other stretches, still feeling exhausted, but at least his muscles felt a little looser. Forcing himself the full way out of bed, Ben trodded out of his room and slowly down the hall towards the kitchen; maybe Megan could make him something to eat.

 

Arriving at the kitchen, last night crashed on him like an avalanche. The fight. Megan was gone. He stared longingly at the unwashed bronze pan sitting on the stove; it still had traces of egg on it. Swallowing hard, he left the kitchen and decided to check out the war room. He didn’t feel hungry anymore.

 

He entered the room and sat down at a table. The same table he and Megan had sat at yesterday during breakfast. What was he supposed to do now? She was the leader of this troupe, this quest, and now that she was gone, Ben didn’t feel ready to take the reins. He knew nothing of the supernatural, and had no idea how he was going to get into Hell and save Dean. Maybe he could just return to his old life. Ben knew he was wishing now, but with Megan gone, everything seemed less real, less plausible, impossible.

 

What’s more, Ben couldn’t believe what they had been hiding from him. Megan was half angel? That confused him immensely, and he wasn’t sure where it belonged on his moral scale. Angels aren’t monsters… God made them. They’re supposed to be good. But she’s half and half. Where does she belong? Does she truly belong anywhere? And then Bobby…

 

The sound of shuffling in the kitchen interrupted his thoughts and he watched Bobby slide into the room unceremoniously.

 

Wow, Ben had tried to imagine what Bobby would look like hung over, but this was way worse than what he’d envisioned. His eyes were bloodshot; no white was visible at all. His jaw hung open wearily, and his whole demeanor drooped. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and his hair seemed to have dirt in it. He slowly wobbled over to Ben’s table and sat across from him. Where Megan had sat yesterday. Bobby clenched his jaws together and cracked his neck while Ben stared at his teeth with a tinge of fear. His fangs were definitely enlarged.

 

“I feel like I was hit by a car yesterday. What happened?” Bobby mumbled softly.

 

“Do you really not remember, werewolf?”

 

Bobby’s bloodshot eyes opened the full way and stared at Ben for a long moment. His expression changed only subtly, but he could see the turmoil of emotion flowing through him as the avalanche of last night hit him just as hard as it had hit Ben a few minutes ago. Finally, after a minute, Bobby closed himself up, stiffened his upper lip, and straightened his posture.

 

“Where’s Megan?”

 

“I don’t know. She ran off last night.”

 

The duo had another stare off. He had grown to hate that gaze of his. Always secured, cold, distrusting, mean. All for no reason. Except, he knew the reason now: he was a werewolf. He was a monster. Ben trusted these people to get this ghost off his back; he believed them when they said that they found the supernatural. When all along they were the monsters, the overlying theme for why his life, and probably many others, were messed up. Anger building, he rose from the table and started to pace next to a shelf of books. Bobby just watched him silently with that same, stupid look.

 

“You know, all monsters are the same. The reason I stayed, put up with you, was because I thought you were a good guy. Sure, you were an ass to me, but you were loyal to Megan. And that friendship you guys had made me think, there is a better side to you. He can be nice. I even respected you a bit. But now… I don’t know anymore. Now, I find out that you’ve really just betrayed all of us. Betrayed Megan. It just proves what a low, filthy, parasitic, and disgusting thing you are!”

 

Now Bobby rose from the table, fists clenched, breathing hard, and teeth bared. He was transforming.

 

“Don’t talk to me about betrayal. I betrayed Megan? She betrayed me! She betrayed my loyalty! I shouldn’t have to feel ashamed for who I am! I shouldn’t have to hide it! I deserve to live a happy life!”

 

“The only thing you deserve is to burn in Hell!”

 

Cat-like reflexes should be replaced with werewolf-like reflexes. Bobby turned on a dime, clearing the whole room in one leap, arms outstretched, claws out, snarling, the scene perfectly replicating a werewolf in almost any cheesy horror movie he’d seen. Except this wasn’t a horror movie; he was actually getting attacked by a vicious werewolf. Ben didn’t flinch though; he knew what would happen. At least, he hoped he did.

 

Thankfully, right before Bobby’s claws reached Ben’s face, he stopped midair. Sam appeared in front of Ben and held Bobby by his throat in the air. Bobby angrily struggled against him, snarling and scratching, even whining a little.

 

Ben took in Bobby’s real look. He looked like an animal; rabid, savage. The bloodlust in his eyes, the hatred. His nose scrunched up, fangs biting onto Sam’s arm with no effect. The way he wriggled, howled, and fought. Bobby was an animal and it had to be put down.

 

“Sam, what’re you waiting for!? Kill it!” he screamed.

 

Nothing would please Ben more than to see Sam squeeze his hand tighter and just pop Bobby’s hideous head right off of his body. This thing had to die. After everything these monsters had done to him… they all deserved to die. But Sam just held him, unmoving.

 

“I let these creatures accompany you because I thought they could help. But you’re hopeless. You want to do this alone? Fine by me. But I’m not your tool; you work for me, Ben.”

 

Sam ascended the stairs with Bobby, who was struggling less and less by the second, and seemed to be turning a little blue. Ben just watched, his overwhelming anger freezing him to the spot. He closed his eyes; he only heard the sound of the hatch opening and the whoosh of Sam throwing Bobby out, followed by the clunk of the hatch closing.

 

Ben’s breathing was labored as he tried to regain control of himself. Andrew’s killer stood right in front of him, casually, with an annoyed look on his face. Ben wanted to attack him, to unleash all of his rage. Eyeing the salt on the table Megan had brought him yesterday for the eggs, he flashed his hand out and threw its contents at Sam. He yelled in pain, his image distorted, and he disappeared. Smiling to himself, he ran into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of salt. He may not be able to kill Sam, but he could make him suffer.

 

Ben ran downstairs to workout room (yes, this bunker truly has everything) and scanned its contents. The room had bare, grey walls, with one wall being a giant mirror, and the floor consisted of blue mats. Racks of weapons hung in the back of the room, ranging from daggers to maces and spears, and a dummy stood in each corner. A long strip light was the only lighting in the room. Bag of salt clutched to his chest, he scoped the weapons and decided on a sword. It looked cool and he was pretty sure it was iron. Shoving the heavy sand filled dummy out of the way, Ben sprinkled the entrance to the room with salt. He set down the bag with a sigh, and turned towards the room. He needed time away… from everything.

 

Cracking his knuckles, Ben sized up the dummy he had pushed into the middle of the room. Anger still surging through him, he attacked it. He punched it over and over and over. As a kid, he used to think boxing was the coolest thing, and had even taken a few classes. He went through every punch he knew, and started to punch as hard and fast as he could. Sweat flew off his face as his blows connected with the bag, and it bounced and bobbed with every powerful blow. It was too light to stay in place, so Ben moved with it, punching it around the room in a fury. He saw the faces of everyone who had betrayed him… let him down… and he struck.

 

Ben wasn’t sure how much time went by in his rage, but by the time he started to grow weak, his knuckles were bloody and peeling. His muscles burned with overuse, and his emotional strength had drained. Collapsing onto his back, he stared at the ceiling, panting. He had needed this catharsis.

 

He felt hopeless. Everything was crumbling, and he tried to beat the emotion and anger out of him. But it didn’t work. It was only a temporary solution. His chest rose and fell, he kept breathing, his blood dripped out of his hands. How had his life come to this?

 

“Are you done?”

 

Ben sat up, sighing in defeat, and stared at the ground; he didn’t want to see it. Sam had gotten past his salt line.

 

“You beat that dummy pretty bad. It’s covered in your blood.”

 

He looked over at the beige dummy. What had originally been a dusty, dull cream color now was covered with spots of blood, like a weird red leopard. Every spot marked Ben’s pain into a physical form, and it surprised him, facing it. There was so much, and yet he didn’t even understand the half of his pain, his hatred. He had been substituting this logical reason for why he hated the supernatural… but deep down he knew there was something else.

 

“Ben, I know this is difficult for you, and I know what you’re going through. But together we can save Dean.”

 

“Is that all you ever think about?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ben raised his gaze slowly from the floor to Sam’s face. It was staring down at him, but he looked different. The pain in his eyes mirrored Ben’s, and then some. The pain was covered by a layer of coldness, though, refracting it, making it hard to pinpoint. The anger that shined behind those eyes, the determination… Ben couldn’t kill this spirit. He knew it was impossible. If he wanted this to be over…

 

“How do I save Dean?”

 

“He’s in Hell. You and I have to get him. There are no other options now that your companions have left. We’ll need to stock up before we go and hunt down a reaper that would be willing to take us there. Both of those will take time.”

 

“Then what are we waiting for?”

 

 

Megan slowly turned her car key, shutting off her G6, Chester. She patted the hood, then stepped out of the car. She breathed in the warm, welcoming, southern California air. It’d taken her about two weeks to get here, but she’d finally arrived. Home. Her mother had a short, paved driveway, and the house was hidden by a forest of tall trees which were annoying for getting good reception since no telephone wires had been built close by. Feet crunching on the gravel sidewalk up to the doorstep of her childhood home, she walked beneath the trees, enjoying the shade they gave. Her house looked exactly the same as it had a little over seven months ago, yet Megan had never really been away for so long. It had a slated roof with brown bricks. The humble entrance was on the left side of the house, complete with a little overhang and a cute welcome mat. A garage was on the right side, big enough to hold one car. She was glad to be home.

 

After that huge fight with Ben, she’d decided it was time to go home and reconsider her life choices. Bobby had even told her that maybe she should think things over. At least, that’s what rational Bobby told her. Now she didn’t know who he was anymore. The Bobby she’d known for the first six months would’ve never had an outburst like that. She was confused, and needed a shoulder to lean on and talk to about this. So, naturally, she thought, why not go home? Mom always said she could come back, after all.

 

She clutched her father’s folded trench coat to her chest. She’d enjoyed wearing it, she really had, but Megan wasn’t her father. She was playing big hunter when really, she wasn’t sure this was the life for her. She needed to put it down and take a step back, clear her thoughts.

 

Arriving at the doorstep, she snickered at the morning glories curling over the steps. Her mother hated weeds, especially on the front door, where they loved to grow; she was surprised that she hadn’t cut them. Then again, her mother also wasn’t a big fan of manual labor. Megan sucked in a breath and knocked on the door hard. She would’ve rang the doorbell, but that’s something the mailman does. Not Megan Urtecho.

 

Waiting a few moments and hearing no response, she knocked again. She waited longer. Still, nothing. Curious, she checked the door and found it unlocked. That wasn’t uncommon; no one ever came around here really, so her mother often forgot to lock the door. She was probably out back in the woods. Her mother really enjoyed her walks through the home made trail they’d made together, despite the fact that they didn’t own that property, but no one had ever complained.

 

The house’s entrance was a short hallway, with a fork at the end adorned with a small baby picture of herself that she begged her mother to take down. To which she glued it permanently to the wall to stop Megan from taking it down. Seeing the picture and remembering how upset she was when her mother did that made her laugh at herself. She walked down the hallway and turned left into the kitchen.

 

She wasn’t prepared for what she saw.

 

Her mother’s dead body was on the floor. Her blood seeped into the cracks of their tiling. Multiple stab wounds covered her, and her face was butchered beyond recognition. The only token of identity were her clothes. The casual, blue blouse she wore with khaki shorts…

 

Megan collapsed to her knees, tears welling in her eyes as she stared at the horrific scene before her. She held a hand to her mouth to steady her trembling lips and tried to gain control of her breathing, but to no avail, she bent over and started to gag. There was so much blood on the ground.

 

She crawled over to her mother, gasping and sobbing, and kneeled by her for several moments, trying to work up the courage to look. Breathing ragged, she raised her eyes to confirm that these mangled remains were her once beautiful mother. Her crying intensified and her chest nearly clenched shut, she gently slid her arms under the small of her mother’s back and her neck. Megan held her lifeless body in her arms. She tried to hold it all back but she couldn’t. Megan cried and cried. Her tears fell on her mother’s face, wiping away a bit of the blood as it trickled down her cheek. She held her so tightly, her eyes shut so she could envision her mother for the way she was, not what the monsters had turned her into, had done to her. Her mother didn’t deserve this… she was just a pharmacist. Megan didn’t deserve this; she was just a girl.

 

She wasn’t sure how long she held her mother for, but eventually her grip loosened. Megan lost the will to hold on. She set her mother’s body gently on the floor, wiping the tears off her face, only to leave smudges of blood on her own face. Her mother’s blood. Megan’s t-shirt was now soaked, along with half of her pants and her arms. Tired and defeated, she rose slowly to her feet, her legs shaky and wobbly. She called the police.

 

The rest was a blur. She sat down on the front porch, face in her hands, her bloody hands, and she stared at the ground, her eyes open, unblinking, trying to burn the image of her mother’s mauled body from her mind. No human being could’ve done that… it was a demon. The demons had done this to her, to them. The demons…

 

The police arrived five minutes later, but she couldn’t hear them. The ringing voices, memories, and images in her mind overflowed her senses. Megan was taken back to when she was tortured, the memories and feelings more vivid than ever. She’d never faced them… she’d locked it away, unable to face that pain, suffering. Now her mother had to endure what she couldn’t. Hands hoisted her to her feet, and she was face to face with an officer… no, a demon. She could see the hollow in his eyes. Frenzied, she started to rebel against the people holding her, reaching for the officer, desperately trying to claw him, bite him, kick him, hurt him, make him pay. These damned demons did this, and he was going to suffer.

 

Using her super strength, Megan easily shook off the two officers holding her, sending them stumbling backwards with a powerful swing of her arms, and she pounced on the demon. In her fury, she didn’t think her actions through, and the demon, clearly prepared, sidestepped her with ease and pinned her to the ground. Shoving her face in the dirt, he leaned close and whispered,

 

“Megan, your mother’s dead. It’s over. You’ve lost.”

 

The click of the handcuffs sealed her fate. The demon was right. There was nothing left worth fighting for. She had lost everything. The demon hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to a nearby ambulance. In her stupefied state, she didn’t fight back; Megan was done.

 

Some powerful demons also have super strength

 

 

Fresh out of college, first day on the job. Chloe Meeks was grinning from ear to ear as she giddily put on her first real lab coat. This was it; she’s actually a doctor now. Well, a doctor in training. Well, an intern, really. But close enough that she got to wear this sweet jacket that made her feel on top of the world.

 

It was long and pure white, stretching down almost to her ankles and had a few deep pockets, perfect for holding pens and notepads. She smoothed the collar down and wished she had a mirror.

 

“Chloe, hurry up. We need to start our rounds.”

 

“Yes, ma’am, I’m coming!”

 

She rounded the corner of the hospital quickly, and nearly ran into Dr.Mentilis. The woman stood there, glasses almost falling off her nose, as she stared down at a medical chart. Dr.Mentilis was the very definition of professional; she rocked a classy brown business suit topped with her lab coat and one inch heels. She had pale blonde hair swept back that covered her shoulders like a cape, and she looked younger than she was; Chloe had heard she was 45, but she didn’t look a day over 30.

 

Trying to make a good impression, she turned on her charm. Even though Chloe had already gotten the spot, having a good relationship with co-workers is always a good thing, and it’s something she happened to excel in.

 

“Sorry I took so-“

 

“It’s fine. Follow me.”

 

The woman whisked away, and Chloe scrambled to keep up with her, startled by her abrupt departure. That woman really knew how to keep a fast pace in heels, and she was in flats. Keeping up with her, she took the opportunity to scan the fifth floor of the famed Jameson Hospital. There were long hallways that all looked identical, the only marker of difference being the numbered rooms and signs. The hallways had dark blue carpeting, and every so often the hallway gave way to a glassed off office area filled with computers and nurses doing busy work, or a small waiting room with chairs scattered around the edges of the room. The hospital spanned a surprising six floors, complete with three elevators, which Chloe took great pleasure in using; stairs weren’t really fun when you had asthma. The walls were a calming chocolate brown near patients’ room, only to have a dramatic contrast when nearing a workspace, where it changed to a bright white color. The hospital itself was fairly quiet, the only disturbances being TVs playing in rooms left with the doors open or nurses taking phone calls at their cubbies. Chloe wasn’t a frequent hospital goer, and she nearly forget the smell; everything was so sanitized, and it was strange. She wasn’t used to breathing in such clean air all the time; it even made her a little queasy. But she did like how often they washed their hands; hospitals were germaphobe’s nightmare and dream all in one.

 

Hiding her deep breathes, she managed to catch up to the doctor and put a cheery smile on her face.

 

“Who are we seeing first?”

 

“We’re starting off with one of the harder ones. In this room is Ms.Novak, and she’s been declared criminally insane. I need to do a preliminary profile of her mental condition and see how she’s doing.”

 

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat when she heard criminally insane. She knew going into psychology as a major would throw her stuff like this all the time, but it seemed surreal, now that she was actually doing it. Then again, all of this seemed pretty surreal.

 

“Is she dangerous?”

 

“No; she’s unresponsive. Haven’t gotten a word out of her since the incident yesterday.”

 

“The incident?”

 

“She was just admitted yesterday. Ms.Novak called the police, claiming her mother had been brutally murdered, and police found her on the doorstep covered in blood. They tried to lead her away, but she ended up attacking one of the officers on scene. He overpowered her and cuffed her. Since then, she hasn’t said a word.”

 

Chloe blinked hard and put on a brave face. Dr.Mentilis was here, nothing is going to go wrong. She was not going to die, everything will be fine. This is extremely cool, but also terrifying, and-

 

“Just in case, she’s been handcuffed. Don’t be nervous; this is a small town in California, not Silence of the Lambs.”

 

That comment made her a little jumpier, but nonetheless she gave the doctor a smile and a small nod. Not that Chloe thought it mattered; the doctor didn’t even give her a glance or acknowledgement, just opened the door and walked in, Chloe trailing behind her.

 

Chloe turned around to close the door, trying to procrastinate looking at the patient for a bit, and so she closed it slowly, not wanting to make a loud sound. After she shut it gently, she sat down in a chair next to the doctor and looked at Novak with interest. Time to be professional and put that psychology degree to use.

 

But the minute she saw her, she felt bad. This girl wasn’t a killer. She sat solemnly at the edge of the bed, brown hair messy and knotted, wearing only a hospital gown. Her hands were hand cuffed, and she stared at the cuffs, only moving to breathe or blink. The look in her eyes was lost, far gone from the present. Her finger tips twitched a bit, the only sign that she was alive. What had happened to her?

 

“Ms.Novak, I’m Dr.Mentilis, and this is my intern, Ms.Meeks. She’ll only be observing, so don’t mind her at all; she’s a nice girl. I’m a psychiatrist, and I’m here to help you. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

 

Chloe was a bit surprised in Mentilis’s sudden attitude change. Before she displayed professional, and borderline arrogant, indifference. Now she looked like a completely different person. Her demeanor changed, making her look smaller, friendlier. The small arch in her back as she leaned forward, the way her eyes stretched, trying to communicate her empathy. The soft tone of her voice, the way she didn’t demand anything. This woman had experience, and Chloe just watched in awe.

 

But Novak didn’t respond. In fact, she couldn’t tell if she’d even registered the doctor’s statement. She sat there, unflinching, unmoving, still lost in her own mind.

 

“That’s okay; I understand. Now, it says here your first name is Megan. Do you mind if I call you that?”

 

Nothing. Grinning, Dr.Mentilis continued on.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes. So, Megan, let me tell you a little about myself; I don’t expect you to talk to a complete stranger, after all.”

 

 

Exhausted, Chloe entered her apartment with a sigh. The first day on the job nearly drained her. They only got around to seeing four patients that day, and spent an hour to two hours with each. Dr.Mentilis kept her on her toes the whole time; one minute she’d be empathetic and understanding, the next she’d wrap up the session and fly out the door, leaving Chloe bewildered and scrambling to catch up. The drastic personality changes practically gave her whiplash. And while listening to her talk to every patient had been interesting, it got exhausting quickly. The emotional energy it took to keep up with the doctor was astoundingly high, and Chloe was still conditioning herself. If she chose this job, she’d probably spend her whole life conditioning herself.

 

Despite how tiring it was, Chloe found the whole experience extremely interesting. Even though she was tired, especially near the end of the day, her curiosity kept her functionally awake. It left her in awe how talented Dr.Mentilis was, and she wondered if she could ever do what she does.

 

Fortunately, seeing patients wasn’t the only thing they did. Dr.Mentilis was also in charge of prescribing medicines, and on that topic Chloe was on almost equal footing with her. Memorization was one of her strong points, and she even chipped in the occasional suggestion or comment to her mentor. Most of the time she was ignored, but she did get one ‘That’s not a bad idea’ out of her, and Chloe got the feeling that was the best she was going to get. She knew the doctor wasn’t mean, she was just a little quirky. But the way she worked with her patients proved that at her core she was a good person.

 

Hanging up her lab coat on her coat rack, Chloe collapsed onto her couch in her apartment. It was a modest home; the floors were wooden, and her flats clacked against them noisily, both to her empowerment and sometimes annoyance. A quaint, tiny, glass chandelier lit her small living room, adorned with a dark blue couch and a medium sized TV. She also had a bookshelf, partially filled with books she’d never read, partially filled with her Harry Potter collection that she took with her to remind her of home. The living room gave way to a kitchenette with anything she’d ever really need; a microwave, dishwasher, sink and fridge. There was also a stove but she barely used it; Chloe wasn’t a cook, but she was interested in becoming one, and she did try, but it didn’t go over well.

 

The kitchenette had a small hallway leading down to a bedroom and bathroom. The bedroom was an adequate size; she didn’t feel stuffed in a small space, one of her requirements. She was a bit claustrophobic. The walls of the house were also a greyish-white color, not quite silver but not quite grey that gave the whole house a relaxing feel that helped her wind down her nerves; she tended to be a worrier. Overall, the house was pretty much perfect for her, and she couldn’t thank her parents enough for agreeing to help her out financially until she got a steady job.

 

Chloe knew she needed to get some sleep, but she had already crashed onto the couch, and didn’t have the energy to move. She was reaching for the TV remote when she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a knock on her door. Flipping her wrist, she looked down at her grey watch with a bit of fear; it was 10 at night. Why is someone knocking at her door at 10 at night? A little panicked, she fought between hiding in her room and answering the door. No, don’t be ridiculous; you’re an adult, there’s probably just a normal person out there-

 

She heard more knocking on the door and had to cover her mouth to stop herself from making a weird sound out of fear. Chloe, pull yourself together and answer the door!

 

Getting up, she moved slowly to the door, and opened it part-way, leaving the chain lock still on. The door only opened a few inches, and outside stood a raggedy man. His hair was a mess of soft black curls that looked like he just rolled out of bed, and he had some scruff on his face. His crystal blue eyes were droopy, weighted down by the bags under his eyes, and he wore a professional black suit.

 

“Can I help you?” she squeaked, an octave higher than she intended.

 

“Chloe Meeks, my name is Castiel Novak. I believe you know my daughter, Megan Novak?”

 

His voice was deep and gravelly, as if pebbles of sorrow impeded his speech. He looked like such a sad man. Her eyes widened a bit in recognition; she’d met Megan today, with Dr.Mentilis. And this was…

 

“Are you her father?”

 

“Yes, I am. May I come in? We have much to discuss.”

 

She tried very hard to hide the gulp sliding down her throat roughly. A strange man, father of a criminally insane girl, wants to come inside her apartment at 10 at night, alone, somehow already knows who she is and where she lives, and says ‘we have much to discuss’. No thank you.

 

“Um, I think you’re really seeing the wrong person about this. I think you should call Dr.Mentilis in the morning. She’s her psychiatrist; I’m just an intern. Here, take her card.”

 

Chloe nervously dug in her pocket, desperately hoping she had her card in there, and thank the Lord she did. She handed him the card, her hand shaking a little, and the man gave her a curious look, tilting his head like a puppy does when it’s confused.

 

“No, I don’t have any business with her. I need to speak with you, Ms.Meeks. Or would you prefer me to call you Chloe?”

 

“Chloe’s fine. Listen, why don’t you stop by tomorrow at the hospital, and you can meet with me and the doctor during our work hours? I was really just about to go to bed, you see; work’s tiring. Keeping my nose to the grindstone, right? But it was nice meeting you, Mr.Novak, really. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

 

She closed the door quickly, anxious to get away from the man, and her heart beating out of her chest. Maybe not the most subtle way of dismissing someone, but she panicked. Paranoia from watching too many investigative TV shows. Leaning her forehead against the door, she held her hand to her chest to try to calm down her heart. After a few moments, she stood upright and sucked in a breath. See? It was nothing. Chloe, you’re being ridiculous again. Now, let’s go to bed-

 

She turned around only to see the man standing in her apartment. She opened her jaws to scream and she collapsed against her door, but no sound came out.

 

“Ms.Meeks, I don’t mean to frighten you, but I promise you this is urgent. I really need to speak with you.”

 

“H-how did you…!?”

 

“Chloe Meeks.” The man said, sternly, staring her in the eyes, his patience exhausted.

 

Chloe only stared back, and her heartbeat began to slow, her breathing evening out. After a few moments, he motioned to the couch, and Chloe obeyed, sitting down without a word. She stared up at him, and once he looked away, she regained control of herself. Why did she just-

 

“Chloe, let’s start over. My name is Castiel Novak, and I’m Megan’s father. I need your help. Not Dr.Mentilis’s help, yours. You are the only one who can help her. I know this is a lot to take in, but bear with me.”

 

Chloe just nodded slowly, afraid of what this man might do if she said no.

 

“You’re not going to believe this, but you’re a faithful girl. I know you believe in God, and I’ve heard your prayers. Chloe, I’m an angel of the Lord, and I’ll prove it. Only a few people in the world have seen this, but I trust you not to do anything rash.”

 

Hands folded on her lap squeezed together so hard that her knuckles were white and that the circulation was starting to get cut off, she watched in both horror and amazement as the man’s eyes turned into beacons of light. A boom sounded in the room, and wind from some unknown source swept through the apartment. A sound emitted from Castiel, kind of like a celestial machine being booted up, and behind Cas was a giant shadow. The shadows of four wings unfolded behind him, and they stretched out fully, taking up her whole wall. His wings had to be huge; their span was probably ten feet. Her mouth dropped open as she watched the amazing spectacle, and before she fully comprehended the situation, it ended with a bright flash, like a photo being taken directly in her eyes, forcing her to blink tears out of her eyes. The noise, the wind, the shadows, were all gone, just like that. Chloe was in complete shock; she didn’t know what to think or say. Sure, she believed in the Lord, and she believed in angels, but to actually be visited by one…

 

“Chloe? Chloe, stay with me. I’m not done, and I have very little time.”

 

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she turned back to the man- no, angel.

 

“My daughter, Megan, is half angel. Those demons she spoke of are real, Chloe. She hunts them. They really did kill her mother.”

 

So Megan wasn’t crazy. But she was definitely scarred; no question about it. She’s injured to her very core.

 

“The reason I need your help is because you’re special. You’re a Prophet of The Lord, and you have the ability to decipher His word. All I have to do is activate that power within you.”

 

The angel walked closer to her, and she shrunk back into the couch, scared. Prophet of the Lord? Activate her power? What the- wait, shouldn’t swear in front of an angel. What was going on!? This was too much to take in. But Castiel reached his hand out towards her, and she shook her head, tears on the edge of her eyes. What was happening? She was scared out of her wits.

 

Castiel tilted his head again and gave her some of the saddest puppy dog eyes she’d ever seen.

 

“This won’t hurt; I promise.”

 

Closing her eyes, she shook her head vigorously, giving him the okay to do whatever it was he was about to do. She gripped the arm of the couch roughly, bracing herself as if she was about to get a shot, but all she felt was his two calloused finger tips touch her forehead, and her scrunched up face started to relax. She wasn’t sure what happened, but her head felt lighter, clearer somehow, as if he’d dislodged something in her mind that had been stuck in there for ages. After a moment, he removed his hand, and Chloe opened her eyes to his worried face.

 

“It’s done. Chloe, I’m not the right person to explain this, but I need you to help Megan. I cannot help her; I’ve already interfered too much. Give her this note.”

 

Castiel took up a folded square of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Chloe. She gave him a questioning look, asking if she could read its contents. He gave her a small nod, and she unfolded the letter. It was written with strange symbols she’d never seen before, but, surprisingly, the translation came easily to her.

 

“Chloe, Prophet of The Lord. Megan, Continue on.”

 

She suddenly felt a headache coming on, and folded up the paper, holding her forehead in pain.

 

“It’s written in Enochian. As a Prophet, you are now able to understand any holy languages. However, the power comes with unpleasant side effects, as I can sense you’re now experiencing.”

 

Removing her hand away from her forehead, she looked up at Castiel, a bit calmer now.

 

“What do you want me to do? Is this God’s will?”

 

“I can’t answer that. I can only ask that you help her. In the end, it’s your choice; I cannot force you to do anything. Do what you think’s right, Ms.Meeks.”

 

And with that, he vanished into thin air, leaving a bewildered Chloe Meeks alone with her thoughts.


End file.
